Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?
by Dingirverse
Summary: "Years before Hestia met Bell, she stumbled across a dying teenager, and goes into debt to hire a doctor, he repays Hestia by becoming her first familia. Dingir has come to the dungeon, eighteen years old and fresh from killing the Devil Aka Manah, Dingir took a wrong turn when leaving Hell and was transported to a light novel world." Grey Faction crossover, self insert, OC. AU.
1. Part 1: The Weapon Breaker

_A/N: Just a concept chapter for now, as I have lots of other stories to finish, both fanfiction and professional novels. But I've been reading DanMachi fanfiction recently, and thought, why not? If/when I do more chapters; it'll probably be a bunch of self-contained scenarios involving the cast and my OC, as otherwise the story would run too long, and we've all seen the anime or read the story._

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**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

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**Part 1 – weapon breaker**

The monsters once again surged towards him, at least a hundred of them, all massive, snarling, clawed, dripping poison, and savagely hungry. Their target grinned, his grey eyes flashing golden, as he met their charge with guttural laughter, showing no fear of the Varanus, the eight foot tall lizard monsters that killed many on the 37th floor. They didn't rely on strength, though they had it in abundance as level 3 monsters. They were cunning, they hid, ambushed, fought in groups, left reserve forces.

Most solo adventurers died on their first encounter with a Varanus, because they never, ever hunted alone. They were not above waiting until an adventurer stooped to pick up the dropped crystals or item drops of another monster before attacking, and one bite paralysed you in seconds. So unless you fought them with an antidote in hand or had high status resistance, you were done. Even so the young man they faced showed no fear, only exhilaration as he bisects the nearest Varanus from groin to head. He wielded a pole axe, a long metal pole with an axe head at its end, this weapon was ideal for multiple opponents, had a heavy end for striking and cutting, and the same versatility as a staff, though much heavier.

He danced among them, twirling it like a baton with deadly accuracy. When surrounded, he pole vaulted to safety, laughing gaily. But as always, as it always ended, as around the 92nd bisecting slash, the axe blade finally shattered from the constant heavy use. Varanus hide was tough, especially when using mundane weapons. The young man always broke his weapons when dungeon crawling. He used them harder than needed, insisting on a one swing – one kill whenever possible.

"Fuck!" the young man cursed with irritation, the forging goddess, Hephaestus had made it for him, and it wasn't cheap, and she always bitched about his poor treatment of her familia's weapons and equipment. Which is why he usually used inferior, mass produced iron or steel weapons from regular blacksmiths, but he always kept a few quality blades on his person for stronger foes, or unexpected situations, such as him walking into this floor moments prior to surge of new births from the dungeon's walls.

The few surviving Varanus lunged at him, the first got impaled, mouth first on the pole of the broken weapon, turning the monster into something out of horror porn. Thankfully it died very quickly, leaving a crystal, which could be cashed in for money, along with a fist sized, squishy purple ball, which when boiled, popped, and the poison could be extracted. The young man when not selling it on, would instead coat his throwing weapons with it. He didn't bother to pick them up yet though. Reaching into his adventurer's coat, he drew a single short sword; it was all silver blessed steel, nigh-unbreakable, but it required a great deal of maintenance to keep its edge. He seldom used it, but his lesser swords had broken on the way down to this level.

"Come on monsters!" the young man laughed manically, a white aura flickering around him, which despite being an aura of purity, carried a fierce predation with it. "Can you kill me?" he asked, eyes alight with the possibility.

They growled and attacked!

He dodged their claws and poison fangs with inches to spare, and in a blur of movement removed their heads, seemingly all at once.

The young man took several deep breaths, checking his surroundings, all dead. He sighed, disappointed, it was over too quickly, and he lacked the equipment at present to go deeper. "So I failed to die again…" Another sigh, time for a long trek back up the floors, most of the floors wouldn't have re-spawned yet, but it would be time consuming nevertheless. If he used his sword exclusively it would be blunt long before he made it back to the surface. Fortunately the floors often had the weapons of dead adventurer's.

Unlike most, he had no qualms about stealing from the dead, or those monsters who used equipment which they had taken from adventurers. Apparently he was something of an oddity in that regard, no respect for the dead, and no respect for ones weapons, as who could rely on rusty, possibly damaged weapons. Only the desperate, and him did it, he always broke his weapons anyway, so he wasn't picky.

"But I suppose I should collect all of these," he sighed, regarding the hundred or so crystals scattered about, and the occasional monster-part drop. But at least he didn't need to carry loads of excess weight or hire someone as a pack-mule to do it for him. As a general rule he only worked solo, but thanks to his skill **Dark Store**, a unique support ability which allowed him access to a small space pocket, about the size of a small room, he avoided a lot of the usual struggles.

The Dark Store was sadly empty of weapons now, but pretty full of the crystals and monster drops. The young man extended a palm, showing an ugly black scar, and from it seeped a black liquid, forming a dense black bubble on his palm. It shot forth like a KI attack, collecting all the crystals and item drops, upon finishing, it snapped back like a bungee cord, before vanishing back into the scar.

"Well time to get home; don't want Hestia to give me any crap for being gone so long."

The young man's name was Mark, though he went by Dingir within the dungeon, a reference to his former life. It meant both angel and god; and it irritated Sumerian Gods. However he did serve an Elder god, so the angel part worked…rather ridiculously well if one were to know his past and bloodline, though if one were to meet his deity, they certainly wouldn't believe that Hestia was the sister of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades from Greek mythos.

As the young adventurer, now known to us as 'Mark' or 'Dingir' climbed through the many floors of the dungeon back to the relative safety of 'outside' we now take a moment to describe him. He is rather tall, 186cm, a little over 6ft for everyone else, and somewhat pale from spending most daylight hours in the dungeon. He had dark brown hair that verged on being black, though he had a little tuff of white hair in the back, which Hestia thought was cute, much to his annoyance. Grey Eyes that were flecked with blue and yellow, and these steely eyes when combined by the shadows of a deep brow gave him an intimidating gaze, whether he wanted to do so or not.

Dingir wore all black clothing, with Mythril chainmail secretly sewed beneath the material, in-between two layers of coloured cotton as a precaution, or to stop a dagger or claw in the dark. Over that he wore a hooded coat, modified from mages robes design – opened at the front, and made from black orochi skin, absurdly expensive normally, but he had hunted one himself on level 49. It had damn near killed him, and he barely managed to fit the skin in his storage skill. He'd actually been forced to hire the aid of another group of adventurer's to get back, when he encountered them on their own return to the surface.

The green haired elf never let him hear the end of it on the trip back. However now he had a stylish coat that was force, cut, and heat resistant, he also wore bracers on his arms, in case he ever had to guard, as a shield was too heavy and impractical for long use. His boots and legs up to the knee were similarly armoured with black plating. All the metals were light weight, as Dingir favoured dodging over blocking. All in all, he looked rather badass in his chosen adventurer garb, or at least or thought so, the other adventurers found him intimidating and cut him a wide berth, as they all knew him by sight and reputation.

Mark (aka Dingir) commonly known as the mad adventurer, or Hestia's monster, and arguably one of the strongest level 5's in the city. The fastest to get to the rank in living (mortal) memory, and the second deepest solo explorer of the dungeon, losing only to Ottar, who was a level 7, and as such had little to fear prior to the deeper floors, which required armies to fight through. Dingir was a level 5, and as such was deemed crazy at best and suicidal at worst for almost always soloing the dungeon, even if level 5's were considered the elite.

Both would be correct.

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**To be continued in part 2...**

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**A/N:** by the way, the **Varanus** is one of my original monsters, which appears in my light novel; **'Who summons a demon lord candidate to save a kingdom?'**

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**Recommended books/light novels, and comics by me**

**Grey Faction:** Arrival of the Grey Queen

**Grey Faction:** Mistaken Apostles

**Grey Faction comic:** Jinhai's Justice 2018

**Grey Faction comic:** School Wars Manga

**Grey Faction comic**: Arrival of the Grey Queen

**Detective Michael:** The Scalpel Murder

**Detective Michael:** Riverside Mystery

**Detective Michael Comic:** Scalpel & the Hunt

**Vampire Attack:** Empire of Shadows

**Vampire Attack:** Shadow Force

**Secret Yuuki & the Guilty Heart Chronicles:** Dimension Wars

**Secret Yuuki & the Guilty Heart Chronicles:** Starlight Alliance


	2. Part 2: Hestia's white rabbit

_A/N: Here's part 2, and part 3 should be out next week, then expect to wait a while._

_Busy, busy, busy!_

_Oh, and sorry this part is so short._

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**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

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**Part 2 – Hestia's white rabbit**

Hestia was both happy and disappointed with how the last few years had been. She had started her familia, true, had gained her first child, who had been so unbelievably talented, they had gotten to level 2 in a week by pretending to be a pack mule, and stealing a boss kill in the mid-levels, and became a level 5 in little over a year through ridiculous solo diving.

The money he made had gotten her into pleasant accommodations, and now they owned a bakery, which had two floors above for their future members to live, and there was the issue. In the two years since her first child, Hestia hadn't found a single person willing to join her little family. They were all too scared of her first child, to be the second.

Hestia didn't regret saving the teenager she had found dying outside her church two years ago, poisoned, stabbed, bones broken, and burned. She had used up a valuable potion, and went into debt again to hire a doctor. Mark had been a strange child, there was a weight and awareness about him that she usually associated with her fellow gods or experienced adventurers, he seemed strong. So when informing him of his location and circumstances, she was quick to offer him a way to pay him back, joining her familia.

He accepted calmly, Mark was an odd boy, very intelligent, but he seemed to lack common knowledge about gods, the dungeon, and the world itself. She assumed he had lost memories; a cracked skull had been among his injuries. But he skilfully dodged the topic until she decided to let matters lie. He was always kind to his goddess, but she knew others feared him, and Hestia had heard the stories, how he acted recklessly, crazily, with no concern for his own life.

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"_**I am only alive when I am facing monsters; I'm only alive when I am Dingir."**_

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But now Hestia finally had a potential new member, a young boy named Bell, he had a comforting aura about him that was vaguely familiar, young Bell had white hair and red eyes, was a little on the short and slender side, but he showed himself to be agile as he avoided the ire of adventurers which he pestered for information.

'He's also SUPER cute,' Hestia thought absently, and then blushed slightly at the errant and inappropriate thought. He couldn't be much more than fourteen years old, and despite her current appearance as a beautiful, petite, yet still big breasted teenager, she was still an ancient deity. On her original world, before Yahweh had banished all gods to Tenkai, she had been the goddess of the hearth.

But now they had found a new world, continued their roles as gods, though as mere spirits for ages. They now had relearned how to make a humanoid body and interact with the mortals, and thanks to sealing their powers while in Genkai, the humans and demi humans did not have to fear the abuse of power as it had been on Earth.

Young Bell was desperate to become an adventurer, he had passion, but seemed naïve of the reality, as he hadn't trained throughout his childhood as many did, as such he lacked the talent, skill, and poise that many larger familia's expected from new recruits.

She had watched him over the last day or so, while her first child was in the dungeon. Bell was rejected again and again at the door of many well-known familia, being dismissed as 'seems weak.' Hestia could tell Bell agreed with that observation, but burned with a desire to change that.

It was cruel to wait, Hestia knew that, but she felt it best for him to finish his attempts before making an offer, despite having a level 5 member, her familia was still the smallest, lowest ranked, and had a bad reputation, though not to extent of the criminal familia. If Bell thought he could do better, he might resent or regret joining her further down the line. She would grant him a Falna before meeting Mark; it would be too late then if Bell freaked out at this intimidating soon-to-be Senpai. Normally she would never resort to such strategies, she was upfront with the others, she didn't even realise why she was acting so different, taking precautions, and laying the groundwork for victory, as though it were war or chess.

How odd for her...

Yet the answer was simple, love at first sight.

As for young Bell, he unknowingly had an advantage over the average man.

Bell had been raised by his adopted grandfather Zeus, Hestia's brother, whom had regaled his grandson with tales of the glory of being an adventurer, with particular emphasis on them being popular with women. But more relevantly to our story, Zeus, prior to his death at the hands of a monster, and his return to Tenkai, had granted Bell a passive skill to make him more popular with girls, for Zeus was known as both a great seducer and sexual deviant in Greece.

This skill was known as…**Protagonist!**

And so, seeing him on the verge of despair, Hestia approached, both regretful, and oddly nervous of young Bell-kun. "If you want to be an adventurer, join my familia," she asked him, trying to give off a goddess vibe, and personally she felt like bombing that attempt, while trying to dispense hope.

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**To be continued in part 3...**

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**A/N:** A bit on the short side, but will continue off soon in part 3 in Bell's POV. In the meantime, read my other Grey Faction crossovers, or my many self published and professionally published works.

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**Recommended Horror anthologies by me**

**Corpses 'N' Things: **book 1 of 'N' Things anthologies

**Monsters 'N' Things: **book 2 of 'N' Things anthologies

**Vampires 'N' Things: **book 3 of 'N' Things anthologies


	3. Part 3: Goddess and the Monster

_A/N: I've got to go in for surgery again tomorrow, so I figured I'd get this out to my readers quick before that. Enjoy._

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**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

**Part 3 – The goddess and the monster**

Bell had spent several days since he had arrived in the city being rejected over and over again by the many familia in the city. Some had specific requirements like being able make weapons, medicine, or agriculture. But most simply expected strength, Bell was not a strong boy, not compared to an adventurer or labourer, but he had a certain wiry strength. However his talents, if they could be called such, was his agility, the bullies never caught him as a kid. Not good enough for the bigger familia's, and despite wanting the chance to prove himself, Bell was beginning to think he would never get the chance.

Then in the depth of his despair, he felt an aura of familiarity, though Bell didn't know why, and then froze as he heard a young sounding woman ask the following:

"If you want to be an adventurer, join my familia."

He span in shock to see a young girl, a similar age to himself in appearance, remarkably even shorter than himself, and possessing a chest that seemed unrealistic for her physique, seeming almost the deluded dreams of a pervert. She had dark hair, styled into twin tails, blue eyes, and wore a short white dress that hugged in all the right places.

Young Bell could feel the divine energy that subtly exuded from her. A goddess, so that meant, her earlier offer was real. He froze in disbelief at the sudden change of events after being rejected so many times by all the major familia, and most of the others to.

An awkward silence followed as he was unable to reply, unaware of how much his lack of a response was freaking the goddess out, as she tried to maintain an air of calm, grace, and divinity.

Hestia lasted the better part of a minute.

She then pouted, teared up, and demanded. "At least answer damn it, I want another child in my familia already!"

"Eh?" Bell panicked. "Um…I-I wasn't expecting to suddenly get an offer after being rejected all day, uh, yes, I would love to!" he swiftly replied without thinking.

Immediately Hestia became smiley and sunny in disposition.

_Eheheheh!_

"Great, come with me back our base, and I'll grant you a Falna, and you can sign up as an adventurer tomorrow morning."

"Yes! I mean…Thank you very much for this opportunity," Bell replied with a grateful smile which lit up his face, and caused the goddess's face to blush furiously.

Hestia turned away, and with stuttering, false confidence, she replied. "O-Of course, I trust you will prove yourself a worthwhile investment."

"Yes, thank you, goddess!"

The suddenness of the offer, and that Hestia already knew his name; the two forgot to do the traditional exchange of names. This was good fortune for Hestia, as Bell, like all others outside of the famed city, knew of Hestia's Monster, his fame was comparable to that of the Sword Saint, but unlike the blonde beauty, who was revered, respected, and occasionally lusted after. He was simply feared, equated to the murderous monsters in the dungeon.

_Hestia's Monster always fights alone…_

_He hunts other adventurers…_

_He steals from the dead…_

_He laughs like a madman as he faces hoards of monsters…_

_Stay away from him!_

_Dangerous!_

_Evil! Crazy!_

_Nobody trusts him!_

That was but a fraction of the things said about Hestia's first child. Sadly most of them were true; he had also been blacklisted in the past after several grisly murders, where several level 4's were hacked to pieces, and Dingir had been seen leaving the dungeon with their weapons.

After being blacklisted, he nearly wiped out several familia's that came after him, but as they largely tried ambushing him in the dungeon, he easily got away with it. Eventually Dingir bribed a certain corrupt elf hating boss of the guild to drop the bounty on his head. It largely stopped the murder attempts, but the damage was done regarding his reputation. Not that he cared.

However, young Bell, who was now having the Falna drawn and infused into his back, had just unknowingly become the kouhai of such a man. Such a man who, had now returned from the dungeon, and was walking back to the bakery/residence that acted as the base of the Hestia familia.

As Bell lay on his front, and the goddess practically straddled him from behind as she granted him membership and the flicker of divinity needed to gain and use Falna, a thought occurred to him, they hadn't introduced themselves to each other.

How embarrassing.

And had Bell been smarter or less naïve, he would have noted how foolish that was. As some familia were involved in crime, or ruled by very cruel or twisted gods.

"Umm… Lady Goddess?" Bell said uncertainly, all the while trying to not be distracted by the pleasant softness and warmth of her thighs on either side of his torso, face flushed crimson.

"Yes?" Hestia replied, her own cheeks in a similar state.

"This is embarrassing, but we never actually introduced ourselves."

Hestia of course knew his name, but couldn't admit that without risking follow-up questions that would reveal her plans, in spite of her first child's reputation, and her own 'questionable' desire to have Bell join. It was easier to simply agree and follow the flow of that topic.

"You're right, I am the Goddess of the Hearth, Hestia." She said, leaving a brief pause as she finalised the Falna, he was now bound to her.

"Pleased to meet you Goddess Hestia, I'm Bell Cranel..." he trailed off in his reply, feeling a chill down his spine.

_Hestia…_

_Hestia's Monster…_

_Could it be?_

Bell had just realised who he had just joined, the familia of one adventurer; the feared level 5, even in the countryside he had heard the stories, they were spoke of with the same frequency as the Sword Saint whom he admired, and secretly admitted he had a childish crush on.

"H-Hestia?!" he said in a panic.

"Yep!" Hestia replied with false innocence, but understanding that Bell knew about her first child, well too late now.

Then with the literary timing of a lazy writer who knows he's going in for surgery soon and wants to get this chapter out right now, so lets hurry things along. Both Hestia and Bell then heard the dull thump of armoured boots upon the wooden floors outside the room, and it was getting closer.

It stopped outside the door.

A brief knock and the door opened, revealing a tall, and muscular man, his age difficult to guess, somewhere between the late teens and early twenties. He was dressed all in black adventurer's garb, and had a strange intensity about him that Bell hadn't seen in any of the adventurers he had seen thus far in the city. He had messy black hair, and grey eyes, lined with the shadows of one who seldom sleeps. Though in fairness to Dingir/Mark, as a solo diver, he couldn't sleep in the dungeon, if he was in there for a week, he didn't sleep for a week.

This was Hestia's Monster.

His new senpai…

"Hi Mark-kun, welcome back!" Hestia said with a happy smile, completely forgetting she was straddling a young unknown man from behind.

Mark's brow quirked in surprise at the newcomer, but showed no other reaction.

Bell felt like he was standing before a hungry beast as his red eyes locked with the level 5's grey ones, being judged, whether to devour him or not. _(This is all in his head btw, and very inaccurate.)_

'He's like a scared little rabbit.' Mark thought with bemusement, before returning his attention to his goddess. "Hestia?"

"Yes?"

"If you're bringing a man around to entertain, the rule is to leave a tie on the doorknob, so everyone knows not to disturb you," Mark stated, watching as his goddess's face blushed the deepest crimson, a shade he had never seen despite his teasing nature when the two were alone. 'Interesting…'

"And you…boy?"

"Yes, sir!" Bell panicked.

"While I don't have much sexual experience, I believe you need to be facing the other way if you want to achieve penetration." And with that comment, Mark calmly left the room, closing the door behind them.

He faintly heard…

"Eh?"

"Baka!"

Mark returned to his room, which had its own bathroom. "Ugh, I need a shower," he sighed, slipping out of his hooded coat, and dropping, his All-Silver, and several spare weapons he had found during his ascent to the floor with a clatter. His armour, bracers, and leg guards were all dented and scratched; a floor boss had re-spawned in the mid floors, it had been difficult with his low weapon supplies and level of exhaustion. Even the Mythril layers sewn between his clothing would need a trip to the smithies. Being caught by re-spawns and monster births was common for him; it was like the dungeon went out of his way to kill him. It was annoying, but he leveled up fast because of it.

Stripping off the simple garments beneath his equipment, it revealed a thick waisted musculature, not dissimilar to a lumberjack, Mark's body was even paler than his face and hands, and as such his many, many angry red scars and burns stood out very noticeably, they covered his body, front and back, from claws, bites, burns, poison, slash and stabs. He had several new wounds from his most recent jaunt to the dungeon, but they were minor, they wouldn't scar. What was causing him discomfort however was that a good chunk of his body was covered with mottled bruising, armour could only do so much after all to absorb the impact after all.

Stumbling into the shower, he let out a sigh of relief as the sweat, grime, and blood was washed away by the hot water, his muscles slowly relaxed, and he leaned against a shower wall for support. His thoughts later turned to Hestia and her guest, well new member; he could sense a matching Falna to the one on his own back. Mark had also noticed Hestia's clear arousal by her physical closeness to the boy. He couldn't help but tease them both.

'So that's Hestia's type…huh?'

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**To be continued in part 4...**


	4. Part 4: Machinations and kindness

_A/N: Yo! Well I did say it would be a while to the next chapter. Anyways I hope you enjoy it. Please be warned of inappropriate content from my Grey Faction OC. To the reader who loved my earlier dirty jokes, you'll probably like this one._

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**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

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**Part 4 – Senpai's machinations and kindness**

_A week had passed since Bell had joined Hestia's familia due to his foolishness in not asking the cute goddess's name. A week since he had joined the familia of one of the most feared adventurer's in the city. The man who was legendary for his ruthless skills and violence, someone who he planned to avoid when he became an adventurer, who was now his senpai…_

**(Bell Cranel POV) **

It actually wasn't that bad.

The training with him thus far had been terrifying, sure. But he was polite and considerate, and rather teasing, though only so far to Hestia and to a lesser extent myself.

What I could do without was his insinuations that I and Hestia were sexually involved, while I'm not adverse to the pretty woman's attentions, I currently have my hopes set on the Sword Saint, as ridiculous as that hope might be. What I do draw the line at was his insistence that his finding us with Hestia sitting on my rear while she drew the Falna on my back was in fact her trying to use me as the 'woman.' Something I took great offense to, while Hestia only blushed heavily, hopefully not picturing a 'penetrating' scenario. Who was I kidding, she definitely was.

Eventually I snapped at the level 5, reminding him that women lack a certain 'something' that would make that possible. Mark-senpai only grinned at me, and only then did I realise I had fallen into his trap. He now knew what it took to get a rise out of me, despite my lingering fear of 'Hestia's Monster,' which hadn't been completely erased over the last week.

A little later I would find out that my rejection of the scenario allowed him to prove that it was in fact possible. I ended up thrown on his shoulder, and carried to the red-light district, where there were lots of beautiful women in scantily clad clothing available for hire, but just as many muscular men who looked at me like I was an especially delicious meal. I now have a much better appreciation of how women feel when a man's eyes roam over them without subtly or consideration. I felt strangely violated after several called to my new Senpai, asking if they could 'have a go' with me when he was done with me.

Mark showed no embarrassment or anger at the implication; he merely ignored them, shrugged, or said: "That's up to our Goddess," with a tone that suggested a hint of 'maybe.'

Eventually we ended up at a small store called 'Toys UP Us' which sold sexual aids and fetishist clothing. I had never been in a store like this, my grandfather said they were fun places, but as a kid I doubted such places actually existed. I was proven wrong in a very embarrassing way. I was taken inside, taken along to browse, and he brought a product a woman could wear to simulate being men. He made me carry it back, thankfully in a bag, sadly it had the shop's logo, and I got some very interesting looks on the way back to my new home that overlooked Hestia's bakery.

And once we were inside…

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**(General POV)**

"Hestia, we're home!"

"Welcome back," Hestia said with a smile, and then she saw the bag and froze. "W-W-Wha-t d-do you have there?!"

"U-Umm…" Bell stuttered.

Mark merely grinned and said, "Since you seem to like riding Bell-chan from behind, I brought something for you to strap on to aid in the process until you start having sex the conventional way."

"Eh?"

A moment of silence…

And outside the bakery, those who were passing by heard the high pitched scream of a very embarrassed girl, followed by a loud thundering slap, a yell of pain, and concluded with the laughter of a young boy.

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_**Scene change: House of Fertility, 3 hours later**_

Mark sat their quietly at a small table in the corner, a nasty red hand print still stinging on his cheek from where Hestia had slapped him so hard that he was pretty sure she had broken the rules about using her divine power. A few empty glasses littered his table, while he slowly sipped another cider, contemplating the results of his actions over the last week.

Bell hadn't entered the dungeon so far as he had yet to deem the kid could survive even the first level. Sure the kid was fast, but given how small the new adventurer was, being light on one's feet was expected, so Mark began training his body, showing him what exercises did what, and how to fight realistically, as until Bell Cranel grew taller and his muscles thickened, using anything more than small and light weapons was ridiculous.

The kid had idiotic ideas of using a two handed long sword, something Mark himself wouldn't bother with if he had to lug the heavy thing around like a normal adventurer. _(Support skills for the win!)_ So he forced Bell to swing one of his heavy swords without rest…for four hours. Arms in agony, Bell finally collapsed, his stubbornness giving out to reality. Meanwhile Mark had been performing the same flowing sword strikes much faster and smoother, matching the end of his third strike with the end of Bell's first, and unlike Bell, Mark wasn't even sweating. He was used to fighting for far longer against massive hordes of monsters, or solo against a high level boss, such fights could last days without rest or pause. One battle lasted for over a week against an adult green dragon, and Mark had actually eaten the flesh he managed to hack off the dragon in order to not starve and have the energy to fight, and the same with the dragon's blood to drink, disgusting, but thankfully not poisonous.

Oddly he had gained a skill from it, though sadly not a level up. He had gotten to level 5 in an absurdly short amount of time, but now he couldn't seem to manage the next level up no matter what he faced. So for now he focused on maxing all of his stats within the level 5 range, so when he became a level 6 eventually, he'd become massively more powerful than the few who had made it to that rank and higher. _However…_ Mark shook his head free of distractions, it was an issue he had when not in combat, finding it difficult to focus on one thing, in the dungeon he was a pure existence; in the dungeon he was Dingir not Mark.

Bell needed to learn to fight like a realistic warrior not an unrealistic image of a hero. Battles lasted a long time, war was grueling and exhausting, and in the dungeon you got to experience that. An endless wave of monsters or evil adventurers, you didn't get to choose your fights or fight at your best. Bell needed weapons and equipment he could use even at the peak of exhaustion or the verge of death.

So no heavy weapons for Bell, at least yet. Currently he had Bell training to use a wide variety of weapons that could be easily carried.

These included:

A **short sword,** which had a somewhat curved edge, and was intended for slashing attacks and parrying, rather the hacking required with a larger sword.

A **short handle one sided axe **for deeper wounding attacks, it could also be used to bludgeon if it lost its edge, and was balanced to be thrown as a last resort.

A **dirk, a tiny throwing knife** that could be applied with poison, Mark always carried many of them in hidden pockets. Bell had two straps of them around his thighs, so he could pull them out quickly. Currently his aim was dreadful but Bell was learning.

Bell still needed a lot of work with them before he could be considered competent, but he was definitely getting better. Having a level 5 teaching him all day every day definitely improved the quality of the training, as well as correcting errors in form and technique before they became bad habits.

The more important issue was naivety; Bell had grown up on unrealistic stories of being an adventurer that would need to be broken. Hard. But until Bell experienced the terror of the dungeon for himself, there was a limit to what Mark could instil in the stubborn brat, and a week wasn't enough time to teach even the basics of the dungeon. It wasn't surprising so many level 1's died soon after joining.

Another week and he would take Bell to be signed up as an adventurer, and then he could start earning again, if at a reduced level as he couldn't take Bell too deep without getting him killed. Hestia would likely never forgive him… and that was the main issue that would interfere with his plans to conquer the dungeon.

Hestia, one of the few remaining virgin goddesses had fallen in love with a human. That wasn't the issue itself, the problem was that it wasn't him or a non-adventurer. He would never die in the dungeon and Hestia knew that, and a non-combatant would be at low risk of dying young. But falling for Bell meant she would always worry for his safety and worse yet he might not return her feelings, which is why he teased and pranked, and pushed them together without consideration. Which led him to being slapped, Mark did not care however, Bell and Hestia had both been blushing furiously afterwards, particularly when he left, saying to enjoy themselves, though whether conventionally or with the toy he had purchased as a punishment for Bell. He had found out the damn kid had a crush on the sword saint, which was unacceptable. The Loki and Hestia familia were not enemies, but neither were they friends, (with a few exceptions) and marriages between groups simply didn't happen. But if Bell tried, it would break Hestia's heart.

Mark refused to allow the goddess who saved him to be unhappy, it was unacceptable. He would make Bell strong enough to survive for now, but he needed more teammates for when Mark/Dingir returned to deep diving in the dungeon. More people would mean more changes in his daily life, and the two years alone with Hestia had been precious. Mark sighed, downing the cider in a quick chug. There was so much he needed to do now, but it couldn't be helped. He would have to balance this additional annoyance with his goals.

'If I cannot quench her feelings…' Mark mused darkly. 'You will accept Hestia's affections, if not… Bell, I will kill you.' He paused, perhaps that was a little cruel. '…At the very least I will have you leave our familia.'

He set down the glass with a delicate plink. The days where he would crush metal cups and glasses in his hands by accident when he got angry had long since passed. Even though he burned on the inside, he didn't allow it to show on the outside, not his gaze, expression, bearing, or grip.

A familiar green haired elf then sat at his table, Alf was a level 6, and had saved his life on one occasion, helping him get to the surface after the battle with the Black Orochi, they had become… perhaps not friends, but more than simple acquaintances after that, exchanging small talk, and occasionally drinking together. She handed him another cider, an elfish brand he noted from the smell, she carried a second one for herself. Elves seldom drank alcohol, but those that did, usually only drank apple or grape wines brewed in their own land. Mark didn't mind, elf cider was very sweet with a surprising kick to it.

But what Alf was drinking was simple apple juice, though pressed from the same brewery. Mark often tried to get her to drink alcohol, he had a feeling she would be an interesting drunk, but no luck as yet.

"Hey Alf," Mark smiled, accepting the drink. "What brings you here?"

"You," Alf said simply.

Mark's smile turned faintly smug. "Oh?" he remarked. "Are you finally succumbing to my charms?"

Alf snorted, not rising to his bait to embarrass her. "Calling them charms would be an exaggeration."

"My heart breaks at another missed opportunity!" Mark declared in an exaggerated fashion. Before schooling his features to normal, she never sought him out; they simply met by happenstance and spent the occasional time together. "So what's up?"

"I heard an interesting rumour about you," she began.

"Which one?" Mark asked, as people were always talking about him, seldom anything good.

"Seems you finally have a new familia member after two years," Alf replied, honestly she was curious. Because of how bad his reputation was, nobody wanted to join Hestia's familia.

"Yeah…It's true." Mark sighed deep a deep swig of the drink she'd brought. "Thanks for this by the way."

"You're welcome," Alf replied, allowing a brief smile to show on her usually stoic features. "But you don't seem happy about it."

"I'm not."

"Can I ask why?"

Mark sighed, he couldn't handle Alf when she didn't throw out the digs and sharp banter, and her politeness stopped his usual responses. It was easier to be honest, and he wanted to vent a little bit.

"Can you promise to keep quiet about it?" he asked softly, he didn't want anyone to overhear. Fortunately with how noisy and packed the place was, it was unlikely anyone would anyway. The next topic of conversation was conducted in little more than whispers as a precaution.

"Very well."

"Hestia's in love with our new member."

"Huh?"

"But he fancies your little kouhai, the Sword Saint."

"Not going to happen," Alf said simply yet sternly. Alf despite her young appearance was 99 years old and had been the main trainer, and effectively a foster mother to Aiz, whose own parents had died tragically when she was very young.

"Then we have an agreement. You keep her away from Bell Cranel, and I'll do my best to push Hestia and him together in the meanwhile."

Alf didn't have problem with this, though Aiz frequently challenged Mark to a sword duel, so he'd need to leave Bell at home. Aiz disliked Mark's violent actions and crassness, hating that so powerful an adventurer was so much in conflict of what she expected of herself and the image of the perfect hero she sought. Despite that lacking, Mark almost never lost to Aiz, the only times she could recall Aiz winning was when she had leveled to 4 and 5 before he had, and trounced him with the sudden superhuman boosts until he achieved the same level up.

Aiz was far more talented a fighter than Mark, he knew it, she knew it, Aiz knew it. However her style was straight forward and head-on. Mark was ruthless, brutal, and used any method to achieve victory. He was no hero, but he had the ideal skills to be an adventurer. This proven when he nearly reached the level 50+ floors solo, something that only Loki's familia in the last few years had managed to beat, and they did it in vast groups. As at level 50 plus, you didn't just have super strong monsters and deadly terrain to deal with, but literal armies of monsters headed by bosses that were level 7 or 8 at the least.

"Very well."

"Besides," Mark continued. "Your Aiz lacks the emotional and societal experience to even contemplate a romantic relationship. She's worse than we are, and we're pretty broken."

Alf knew Mark well enough to not be offended. He was right; all three of them were too focused on their goals to pursue a genuine romantic relationship, though in Aiz case, she was too sheltered as a warrior, and didn't really exist as a female, let alone as a woman with sexual wants and needs. As much as Aiz was affronted by the existence of Mark, he knew her far better than many of their familiar.

"How very true," she chuckled.

"But enough about me, it's been a while since we last saw each other. How has life been treating you, sweet Princess?"

Alf flushed very briefly; somehow he made it embarrassing to be called by her title.

"I-Idiot."

* * *

**To be continued in part 5**

_A/N: I made the chapter around 3K this time, quite a bit longer than the others so far._

* * *

**Status**

**Name:** Mark Green

**Alias: **Dingir, Mad Adventurer, Hestia's Monster

**Race:** Nephilim

**Gender:** Male

**Age:** 20

**Hair:** Black

**Eyes:** Grey / Gold

**Height:** 186cm (6ft, 1 inch)

**Affiliation:** Hestia Familia (captain)

**Occupation:** Adventurer

**Level:** 5

**Achieved floor:** 49

**Strength:** S900

**Endurance:** S958

**Dexterity:** B781

**Agility:** B790

**Magic:** D567

**Exorcist:** S

**Storage:** D

**Magic Resistance:** C

**Skill:** Berserker, Dark Store, Dragon Burst

**Magic:** Sanctitudo, Malo Purget, Origin


	5. Part 5: Freya's Desire

_**A/N:** The timeline of events will be spread out a bit compared to the original series. Also as Bell didn't go into the dungeon for the first two weeks as he was being trained by Mark, he therefore never met the Minotaur or was saved by Aiz, turning his childish crush into an obsession. Hestia still has a chance in my AU._

* * *

**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

* * *

**Part 5 – Freya's desire for the clear soul and fractured soul**

_Freya, Goddess of Love, and judge of souls watched her newest obsession via her magic viewing mirror as he was led through the dungeon by her other obsession of nearly two years._

_(Freya POV)_

Bell Cranel and Mark Green were currently on the fifth floor, effortlessly cutting through the mass of monsters, though in Mark's case, he simply dodged, grabbed the monster's head and casually squeezed, popping the low level monster's head like a large boil, with all the gross splatter expected. As a level 5, particularly with S-rank strength stats, he could split a street with a stomp, knock down stone walls with a punch, and wrestle massive monsters beneath level 5 with the ease a parent would play-fight with a small child. He used swords with excessive force because it reminded him of his former life as Dingir the Exorcist. I wonder if little Hestia even knows the truth and origin of her first familia? Probably not, and if she did, could she understand the fate and burden of my dear Mark, the horror and foreknowledge he had of his future.

'Ah, my dear fractured soul, to think you would bring so beautiful a soul with you.' As the goddess who decided the fates of the dead, I had a great many powers that remained like skills, even with my divine power sealed. I could see the truth of each person, their colours, hues, and brightness showing me their on-going journey. In the afterlife I collected the souls I found beautiful or interesting, reincarnating or damning the others based upon their actions while alive. However for the souls I kept, I soon realised that completed souls would show no further growth, their journey's done. What I saw was all they would ever be.

So when the chance to descend to the mortal world of this new reality came after Yahweh banished us, I realised I could find beautiful souls, take them into my familia, love and guide them, and watch as their souls grew and gleamed with new brilliance, and I would lovingly be a part of their growth. It was a wonderful hobby that gave my life so much more meaning.

However, after centuries in the mortal realm I have seen every type of soul, and it takes a very bright or brilliant hue to get my attention anymore. I loved living in the mortal world, and would never return to heaven by choice, even if not as exciting as it once was, the polishing of these jewels we call souls still brings me joy. My Familia all love and adore me, and no man refuses me should I desire company at night, whether man or god.

But then two years ago, I found something new, something that should be impossible. I saw a young man leaving the dungeon. He wore no armour, simply carrying a small axe and club at his waist, he wore a strange hooded jacket made of black cotton, and frayed blue pants, clearly foreign clothing, yet I have never seen another wear them since. The quality of the weapons he used were terrible, already cracked and chipped, and the club looked like he had whittled it himself. At first I thought him a poor and foolish rookie Adventurer, but then I saw him produce a massive sack of monster crystals from seemingly nowhere, it must have been a support skill. Carefully I drew closer, actually curious, while my guard for the day followed in bemused silence. Many of the crystals he poured into the tray at the guild's exchange were tiny, but I noticed thousands of more valuable ones, based upon their colour and size, they would have come from floor ten at the very least. Why was someone who looked ill-equipped to even enter the dungeon's first floor able to go as deep as that?

I soon got my answer.

"I-It's your first day, how did you get so many?" demanded a young half-elf who worked there. Oh, he reached at least the tenth floor and it was his merely first day? How ridiculous! It took normal adventurer's weeks if not months to go that far by themselves.

"I just killed monsters until my weapon cracked, and then I came back here." The young man replied casually, indifferently. He didn't understand how remarkable that was, nor did he seem to care. "My money, please."

"Level 1 adventurer's like you shouldn't be going so deep into the dungeon alone," the half-elf insisted. Ah! She was the type who hadn't learned yet to distance her emotions from the safety of the adventurer's. She was far too kind to be working in the guild then.

"Please exchange the crystals; I need to buy food and more equipment." The young man ignored her; I could sense his irritation, despite his quiet and polite tone of voice. He obviously had full confidence in his combat abilities, his clothing was loose, so I couldn't get a good grasp of his musculature, but his sheer bulk and height was indicative of someone with a lot of brute strength.

The half-elf eventually gave in, and exchanged the crystals for Valis, earning well over V200,000 for a day's work. Nothing compared to what a level 5 could bring in a day, but for a level 1 or 2, it was an impressive amount. As the young man left, he spotted me watching him, his brow quirked, but he didn't react in the slightest to my divine beauty. My passing interest developed into legitimate curiosity, and so my eyes pierced through the layers of his being, and regarded the soul of this oddity.

I saw something new.

I saw impossibility.

I saw a white soul, completely pure, impossibly pure. The soul was also massive; a normal soul was the size of a heart. The young man's however extended several metres in every direction, with six bird-like wings lining the soul's edge. It wasn't the soul of a human, nor did I recognize the race it represented. As absurd as that all was, when I pushed my sight deeper, I saw the flaw in his existence. His entire soul, was somehow, impossibly full of cracks, like a dropped glass which fractured against the ground, yet somehow keeping his shape. Within the cracks of his soul, I saw his story. It was the soul of a damned man. One who's soul would descend to Hell upon his death no matter what he did. No, that he had already been to Hell, and somehow escaped.

But once you enter Hell, Reincarnation and Heaven are forever denied to you.

'I want him.' Freya decided. This brilliant, yet broken oddity would be hers.

_(General POV)_

However in the two years that followed, she had failed utterly to entice him. It wasn't that he was shy or naive about beauty and sex. He occasionally visited the red light district, and once was pursued by a group of Amazons; she had a crystal-recording of it somewhere. It was quite the show. However for whatever reason, she was incapable of seducing him, as though her divine beauty had no effect.

The closest Freya had gotten to getting Mark was after revealing she could see his soul and knew his dark fate. As a judge of souls, she could save him, however to do so, she would need to return to Heaven and assume her former role, and who knew when she could return to the mortal world, years? Decades? Centuries? Unacceptable, as it would mean the end of her Familia.

She remembered his words and actions.

Mark threw a dagger at her feet, saying. "Kill yourself, and I will do the same. If you save my soul, I'll be yours."

Freya froze; she had worked too hard to sacrifice it for one soul, no matter how much he fascinated her.

Mark smiled mockingly as he saw her hesitation. As expected. Self-sacrifice for 'love' was nothing more than a story. People were inherently selfish. Though he didn't hate Freya for not accepting it, she would be stupid to. Mark had accepted his fate. Though with Aka Manah (the one who damned him) dead, who knows who would claim his soul when he died. As long as it wasn't Asag, as the living embodiment of pestilence could do things to people that even made other Devils queasy.

Mark turned and left. "The offer stands, Freya. But without saving my soul from Hell, I will **never** be yours." He didn't expect her to be able to do anything, but neither would he burn any bridges that could leave to his salvation. Still the idea of essentially 'selling himself' to avoid Hell rankled his pride.

Freya however continued to pester him, occasionally sending 'challenges' his way, in the form of assassins, or provoking the dungeon, spreading false rumours and witnesses, getting him black-listed, and the like, all to provoke his growth, she hadn't been able to acquire him yet as either a lover or familia, but the goddess could still take pleasure in observing his soul's growth with stalker-like obsession. Mark stopped caring about these attempts, as the higher levelled you were the slower you aged, the longer you lived, and the longer he could avoid Hell.

In any case, Freya couldn't seduce him. Mark was always in control of himself, he wouldn't settle for anything less than the salvation of his soul to submit to that goddess. Fortunately his kind, or his originator species, _(as Mark was a mongrel human hybrid)_ were beings of pure energy; they didn't need to have sex to produce more of their kind, nor did they experience desire. People like Mark were an experiment to make one of them with a permanent physical body, and while he certainly had 'desires,' Mark could simply switch them off like a machine. Freya's divine beauty and latent powers were meaningless in the light of this ability.

Despite those failures, Freya continued her attempts, both frustrated by and enjoying the seemingly impossible chase. And it was via this long game that Freya would come to see Bell Cranel, another adventurer with a strange soul, a clear soul, one devoid of both corruption and purity, a soul that could be dyed in any colour she wished.

Unlike Mark, Bell Cranel was clearly human; he wouldn't be immune to her charms. She would cultivate this strength, experience, and soul, and when he burned bright, she would take this new beautiful soul for herself.

"Bell Cranel, you shall be mine!"

* * *

_(At the same time in the dungeon)_

Bell suddenly felt a shudder run down the length of his spine, the same chill he had felt from the muscular men in the red light district who had regarded him as something to eat.

'What the Hell was that?' Bell wondered looking about the dungeon, expecting an attack.

"What's wrong, brat?" Dingir asked, turning back to regard the kid.

"I felt like someone was staring at me lustfully," Bell replied.

"Well it wasn't me."

"Given your obsession with what me and Hestia get up to, I'm not too sure about that."

"Care to repeat that?"

"N-Nothing!"

Bell continued to look around, the feeling of unease remain, and soon they both heard the dull thumps of hooves, revealing a Minotaur, the gigantic bull monster had found its way onto the tenth floor, it was old for a dungeon monster, having avoided or defeated low level adventurers as it headed to higher floors, its instincts forcing it to take chances, it was looking to breed with the low level female adventurers on the upper floors.

A few species of monsters were capable of breeding with the mortal races, a method the dungeon used to maintain their numbers back in the days when monsters freely spread across the world. This included Orcs and Hobgoblins, in addition to the Minotaurs. The large monster was panting heavily and sporting a pulsing erection that would give any man, and some horse's feelings of inadequacy. Dingir certainly felt lacking in comparison, but no man outside of a Hentai doujinshi could realistically match that. Bell was simply horrified; the much shorter teen was at 'head' height and had a far more unpleasant view than the much taller level 5 did.

Dingir drew a falchion from inside his coat, though like with most of his weapons, he actually summoned it via his 'Dark Store' skill. He took a stance, but the Minotaur ignored him as it got closer, its eyes were locked onto Bell, panting growing louder.

He and Bell reached the same conclusion at the same time.

Dingir was amused. Bell was in no danger of losing his purity with him here, now he had something else to tease the kid about, given that Hestia was stamping down on his more abhorrent teasing.

Bell was rightfully terrified; its erection was nearly as thick as his arm. It would destroy him.

"Oh…no!" Bell cried out, backing away, the short sword in his hand shaking noticeably.

"Well kid, either the Minotaur's gay, or it thinks you're a girl." Dingir noted, and he had to admit, with how Bell acted at times, he could almost pass for a stereotypical girl from a shoujo manga.

"This isn't the time, Senpai!" Bell complained, looking ready to run.

"You won't survive on floor 10 by yourself, Bell." Dingir stated firmly before Bell did anything stupid. "My teasing aside, I will protect you." Rape was one of the few acts that genuinely angered him. Dingir had rescued women before in the dungeon after such experiences; it lit a fire of rage in him, as it brought back memories of seeing such torturous acts in Hell. Aka Manah had forced him to watch as Asag raped and rotted the villainous women who fell into his realm, but no one deserved what Asag could dish out, his very body rotting his victims as he violated them.

Dingir walked into the Minotaur's path. Only then did it seem to notice him.

It bellowed angrily at him, drawing back its arm and throwing a massive fist towards Dingir's face. Bell called out to him in alarm as his Senpai made no move to dodge. Dingir's arm then blurred, and the Minotaur's arm flew off, a gush of dark blood spurting. The Minotaur stumbled back, holding its stump. Both of its heads followed, the now dickless and beheaded Minotaur fell, but before it hit the ground, its corpse was shredded into dozens of pieces.

All of this from the single blurred movement, Bell looked on, stunned, realising the skill of the strongest level 5 adventurer. He felt pathetic, weak, was Aiz, the object of his childish crush the same as this?

'I need to catch up with Senpai.'

**To be continued in part 6**


	6. Part 6: God Slaying Angel

_A/N: __Time to bring in everyone's favourite Pallum, but don't expect things to go the same way. Also this is a dark chapter, so brace yourself._

* * *

**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

* * *

**Part 6 – God slaying Angel**

_(Arde POV)_

I'm a member of the Soma Familia, a group of drug addicts obsessed with a divine wine named after our god, an idiotic piece of filth who used his 'Soma' wine to control his familia, they would earn money to get their fix. In turn, Soma used the money to fund his brewing and experiments, he cared nothing of the vile environment he had created to fund his hobby.

I truly hate Soma. I never chose to join, but I was born into the Soma, birthed by addicts who barely bothered to feed and clothe me in pursuit of their high. However they still raised me somewhat, protecting me from the abuse of my fellow familia. However they died when I was about seven years old, and so my meagre protection and my Hell began. I was beaten, starved, abused, and used as a pack mule, Soma almost never updated my status, I couldn't get stronger, my magic and skills developed to make my carrying burden easier, or escape the abuse by disguising myself.

Finally I managed to escape Soma, living in alleys, abandoned buildings or the rare kind person's spare room or attic. But the Soma always found me, robbed and tormented me, driving me into hiding. A few had a taste for Pallum women, and I especially feared those few, their touch, breath, and bestial gaze.

I took to being a support adventurer for any random adventurer that needed it. I needed money for food, so I dealt with their bullying and cruel words, but compared to the Soma, it was nothing. Even so, I hated other adventurers. They often failed to pay me, beating me when I insisted on it, so I took to tricking and stealing from them, leading them into areas that would potentially kill them while I ran off with the loot. And thanks to my Cinderella spell I would transform myself into an elf or beast-person to avoid reprisal.

But not today, I've been cornered in an alleyway by the most recent group of adventurers along with three Soma members who particularly liked hurting me; a human, a dwarf, and a wolf man. I never learnt their names, though one was apparently the captain, and one of the few level 2's in the Soma Familia.

They had me cornered, pinned, and began tearing at my clothes. I tried to fight back, but a level 1 Pallum couldn't hope to overpower multiple larger races. I resigned myself to being used again as the captain parted my legs. I couldn't help but feel the usual panic and fear.

Then I heard a voice, deep yet young, speak from the entrance to the alleyways. "Bell here's some Valis; go get us a snack from the store over there. I've got to do something real quick."

A resigned sigh, followed by - "Okay, senpai."

The man steps into the alleyway once this 'Bell' person left. He's tall, thickly built, larger and more intimidating by far than any of my attackers. He's wearing all-black adventurer garb. I note the high quality of every item he wears. His face is mostly hidden by the deep hood he wears. But I can feel his eyes burning into mine.

My would-be rapists regard him warily.

"Unless you want a go yourself, fuck off or die." The dwarf warned, fingers patting his massive battle-axe.

His mouth turns into a massive, evil grin, and I feel my momentary hope die. Of course an adventurer passing by wouldn't help me, and then blood fills my vision.

* * *

_(Mark/Dingir POV)_

Bell and I were on our way to the dungeon again when I overheard a commotion in a nearby alleyway. My hearing is far superior to a pure blooded human like Bell, who has yet to notice. What I hear makes my blood burn with rage. I send Bell to the nearby shop as I step into the nearby alleyway. Bell doesn't need to see this.

I see a young Pallum girl; she looks like a child, but is probably 15 or 16 years old, Pallums are a small, human-looking race, and always looked young. She is pinned by several men, while others watch. Cruelty and lust emanate from them. It makes me feel ill as their intentions wash over me. They intend to force themselves upon her, and from her resignation and the pain in her eyes that remind me of my own, I know this isn't the first time this has happened to her.

One of their number, a dwarf warns me off.

I grin viciously, these scum actually think they can harm me. I am a level 5, the strongest one. None of them are above level 2. I kick the ground and cover the distance in an instant, faster than they could follow with their eyes. I grab the back of the head of the human who was about to enter the girl. I squeeze and his head pops. I don't event give him time to scream. The others panic as blood and brain matter splatters against them. They angrily reach for their weapons, yet I tear their heads off before they even get close.

"Enjoy Hell." I mutter softly, unlike myself they truly deserved it.

The young Pallum girl, splattered in their blood was frozen stiff. No doubt she would be frightened of me after that display. I sat in front of her, legs crossed, ignoring the bloody mess around us. I slowly pull back my hood, making sure to school away any killer vibe and anger from what I had just witnessed.

"I won't ask if you're okay, but it's over now. They're dead." I kept my voice as soft as I could.

Her eyes met mine, and we sat in silence as she analysed me, given the circumstances, I allowed her to read me, not hiding behind the emotional mask of 'Dingir.'

She finally gave me a sad, bitter smile, seeing that we were both broken people. "It will never be over; Soma will never let me be free…"

"Those addicts have been doing this to you?" I asked, my eyes briefly flickering gold, she was startled but didn't recoil.

"I was born into the Soma Familia…and after my parents died, there was nobody to protect me." The young Pallum told me her story, of torture, abuse, and humiliation.

Our circumstances were different, but this I understood intimately, my ten years in Hell, a small naïve boy being tortured to death again and again, revived, and then again, and again. Burned, flayed, dismembered, savaged by beasts, eyes and organs gouged out, carnivorous creatures put inside my body and eating their way out, lava, whipping, starvation, and much else besides. I was tortured to death in excess of eighteen thousand times, but eventually I lost count.

"You're wrong; the Soma won't be a problem anymore." I declared softly and firmly. I had gotten into fights with Soma before, I didn't like the thuggish group, but I hadn't realised how bad things were. There were many Familia in Orario and I'm too busy as a solo-diver to know them all, and their dirty business.

I carefully scooped her up in my arms, she eeped in surprise. "I'll take you to my Goddess to see to your injuries and a place to stay."

"Okay…"

"My name is Mark by the way."

"…Arde."

Bell was hanging near the alleyway, looking about, clearly annoyed by my absence. He turned to face me, and froze, seeing me carrying a blood soaked girl even smaller than Hestia.

"Senpai, w-what are you doing?" he stuttered, likely assuming the worst about me, the rumours about me still prevalent in his mind.

"Saving someone, I'm taking Arde to Hestia; I want you to protect her while I resolve a certain matter."

Bell looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but my grey eyes turning golden, and glowing with magic. He immediately quietened and followed. About twenty minutes later, we arrived at Hestia Familia HQ, and given it was early morning, Hestia had yet to open up the bakery beneath their living area.

Once inside, Hestia and I had a quick whispered conversation. I explained everything, and I saw the familiar kindness in her eyes harden into flint, it was in moments like this you could believe she was more than human. Hestia was the goddess of Hearth and home, it was in her nature to warm, protective, and mothering, I rather liked that about her, it was something familiar as I would never see my blood family again. Now those protective hackles were raised, she took Arde away to bathe and changed out of her bloody clothes, and later be a comforting presence to Arde, meanwhile I would deal with the Soma Familia.

"Bell."

"Y-Yes?"

"I want you to protect them both while I deal with the people who attacked her." I ordered. "Nobody goes in or out until I return."

"Understood, Senpai."

I turned to leave, but Bell called to me. "That girl…They did something really bad to her didn't they, and it's more than being attacked just now isn't it?"

I paused; oddly surprised that he was that observant.

"You would be right, young Arde has known nothing but abuse since she was born into the Soma Familia, they hunted her down after she finally escaped them, tormenting her, robbing her, and worse. When I found her, several Soma members were stripping off her clothes. From what she's told me, she's known nothing but Hell." I explained to him quickly, best Bell not ask her any foolish questions because of his naivety.

Bell's eyes hardened. "I'll protect them."

"Good, you finally look like a man. I'm counting on you." I told him with an actual good natured smile.

Bell blushed like a maiden at that compliment, but I kindly chose to ignore it.

I left without further comment.

I have a god to kill.

* * *

**To be continued in Part 7**

* * *

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	7. Part 7: Eyes of the Nephilim

_A/N: As some of you know, I tend to bitch in some of my stories about my health, its why my OC 'Dingir' is so focused on besting death, though in his case its fear of hell, and in my case it is not existing as a conscious and analytical being. Why am I mentioning this, well besides a new persistent infection scarring up my legs even more, joint trouble, liver trouble, and indicators of another internal bleed, I just feel the need to bellyache about it. Yeah, further time in hospital. Well my bitching is out of the way. This chapter will be one of the longer ones as I ramble off upon occasion._

_Also check out __**Secret Yuuki: Mabuse case**__ \- which will be coming out later this year. Much obliged._

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**Part 7 – Eyes of the Nephilim **

Mark could have easily slaughtered every member of the Soma by himself with enough time; however his solution was actually quite simple. He simply waited a few hours for the majority of their members to enter the dungeon before visiting the Soma's headquarters. When he killed Soma, all of his familia would lose the ability to access their Falna and regress to being ordinary humans, and being inside the dungeon would be a death sentence to them. He simply had to deal with whoever hadn't gone to the dungeon. The most addicted members went to the dungeon every day to fuel their fix, so only the weakest, like the children, the whores, and those in favour with their God (the brewers) should be there. Easy enough work.

It didn't work out that way, as every level two they had was present on the first floor as Mark calmly kicked the door, sending it into a fermenting cask at the rear of the room. Based upon the colour, it was the cheap swill that they made for the masses, even so, Mark was unsettled as dozens of small children; dirty, gaunt looking creatures then rushed the spillage to lap the divine wine like frenzied, sun-baked cats.

Mark sadly missed the opportunity to say something cool after the entry as he instead regarded the children with sad, old eyes. The children ignored him, hackles raised at each other, trying to slurp up as much of the addictive substance as possible. The Soma adventurers drew their weapons, and spread out in a half circle.

"So you're the one who killed the captain?" said the strongest looking of their group, a middle aged dwarf named Chandra.

'So someone was watching me?' Mark mused, however he didn't know who the captain was. "That depends on who the captain is?" Mark drew his own weapon. Based upon their auras, he could see whether they deserved Hell and what their sins were. Only one of the level twos present deserved to be spared, ironically the dwarf speaking to him, and while he had sins certainly, but they were not the kind that Mark would kill for, nor were they severe enough to be damned. "But if he was among the group of Soma scum I killed trying to rape a little Pallum girl, then I probably did kill your captain."

The dwarf frowned, remembering the Pallum girl that ran away from her abusive environment. He spent most of his time brewing, but he knew their familia was not a good one, and the competitiveness for another fix led many to break the law. Sadly as a mere level 2, he didn't have the power or influence to make changes to their familia, nor could he when their god could use 'the good stuff' to end any arguments in his favour.

However it didn't seem he would get the chance, as their death now stood amongst them. Mark's aura, white and predatory began to emit itself, and those with magic sense would realise how bottomless and vast it felt. Unlike his fellow level twos, Chandra handled deliveries to the other gods as he looked and conducted himself properly. As such he often saw the elites of the other familia; this intruder was a level 5 at the absolute least, his poise, bearing, and the sheer divine power that he emitted was monstrous. The others were caught up in their apparent superiority of numbers, charged him.

One of their level 1's had reported a few hours ago that a team led by their familia's captain had been slaughtered by an adventurer garbed in black leather and armour. Their dealers later spotted him near their main headquarters, and so they called in all their level 2's from across the city, with their stronger level 1's guarding the main brewery deeper inside. Meanwhile the hundreds of disposable trash had gone to the dungeon as usual; they were rabid for their fix and too weak to face someone who killed their captain.

Chandra didn't draw his weapon; instead he waited in his initial position as the others surged forward on all sides. The intruder awkwardly blocked the axe of Simon and stumbled back, almost collapsing, the others closed in with glee, the intruder only looked tough. Chandra's brain started in shock, but as all of them entered the reach of the man's silvery short sword, his expression changed from subtle fear to a manic grin and the dwarf knew his initial estimation was correct.

A circle of silver seemed to surround Mark, but that was simply him slashing too fast to perceive. All of the level 2s exploded in a mass of guts, offal, and gushing blood. His brief show of fear had acted excellently as bait.

The noise had attracted the prostitutes on the next floor, level 1's who couldn't handle the dungeon, and so turned to selling their bodies to get their fix of Soma. They were pale and thin, but not the attractive kind, gaunt from working hard and hardly eating, pale skin from sleeping all day and only going out at night and general ill-health. They screamed in horror at the bloody mess via the stairway.

Mark glanced to them; two of their number had committed vile sins. The first had tricked young girls into prostitution for her familia by getting them hooked on Soma, while the other had killed women in the red light district that were prettier than her, or simply more popular with the men than her. Mark threw two steel dirks, each dipped in Varanus poison with a casual flick of his wrist. Each knife reached their mark, and they collapsed, chocking, thrashing, before going still.

"Why did you do that?" the dwarf demanded.

"I'm only here to kill Soma and the evil members of this shithole crack-den," Mark replied, calmly yet coldly. His eyes began glowing like molten gold, Chandra flinched. "Before my eyes all sins are laid bare." Mark seemingly vanished and Chandra felt a fist driving into his stomach with horrendous force, and as everything went dark, the dwarfish brewer head him say. "This is why I won't kill you." When Chandra awoke he would learn that all of Soma's bases had been attacked after their main headquarters was literally destroyed. Over 90% of their dungeon divers had been killed, though most died unexpectedly while fighting monsters, along with almost all of their brewers, nearly a tenth of the prostitutes, and roughly a dozen children had also been slain.

Mark pulled his fist from the dwarf's gut, allowing the bearded man to collapse to the floor. He then began cutting through the other fermenting casks. Driving the woman and children into a frenzy as they tried to lap it up before the floor absorbed it. He paused briefly to cut a few more sinners before proceeding to the deeper levels where hundreds of giant fermenting casks slowly transitioned from mere alcohol to the horribly addictive drug. Dozens of brewers were at work, and Mark could tell from the smell it was Soma wine of a much higher quality than was typically available.

Not that Mark liked Soma wine, he had tried it once, and it actually made him violently ill. It was like trying to drink something fermented from rotten fish guts. Perhaps it was due to him being from a race that didn't exist in this world, and its ingredients (whatever they are) were not compatible with Nephilim's taste-buds or digestive system, but Mark personally believed it was because it was because the wine was the product of another God other than his ancestor Yahweh or his current 'mother' Hestia, a product than was dangerously addictive and as such could be viewed as another god trying to gain influence over him, and his body rejecting it.

"Who the Hell are you?" one of the brewers demanded from the walkways that connected the tops of the massive fermenting casks, having finally noticed the adventurer's presence.

"Nobody," Mark replied, pointing a finger towards the ceiling. His body glowed with a pulsating white aura, and so he spoke his spell-words. _**"Purget!"**_ he softly declared, a small orb of light appeared on his finger, it expanded with a blinding glare, like a white supernova. Not that it harmed them. It was like standing before the light of the sun, the sheer brightness forced them to cover their eyes or go blind. Had they been evil spirits or demons, they would have been obliterated into less than dust. Sadly the monsters created by the dungeons were like biological robots, his mighty exorcist powers did not work on them, even though the dungeon itself was a demon, or rather a Primordial Devil (a pure blooded demon, much stronger, comparable to a Seraph) when he used the light, the walls burned, the dungeon shrieked, and monster births increased many, many times over.

Sadly the dungeon was much too massive for him to destroy with his magic, and to be honest, he didn't want to. After Freya's failure to tempt him, as she wouldn't give up her place in the mortal world to save one damned soul, he had begun research on the origins of the gods' descent, and the Falna system for another solution besides simply extending his lifespan by levelling up.

_(A/N: Though I'd love the option in real life, my health's been real bad lately.)_

It was in the midst of his research that Mark had met the green haired elf again; who apparently read a great deal like himself, or rather the him before he had mistakenly appeared in Orario. They got into the habit of discussing many literary and scientific topics. But Mark owed Riviera Alf more than he could ever repay for one bit of information she had given him about the Falna system. When one gained a level, it was referred to as following the next step of divinity, and at the end of that journey (at level 10) you gave up your body to become a lesser deity and ascended to Heaven, eternal, immortal, un-killable. He could even return to the mortal world and create a familia if he so chose, though he would have a long wait, as the world could only support so many gods at a time. But who cares, he'd never have to worry about Hell if he was immortal.

So his new goal was to become a level 10 and a God, therefore his fractured, damned soul wouldn't matter. However there hadn't been an adventurer to reach level 7 besides Freya's boar eared douchebag in the last four hundred years, and no adventurer to reach level 10 in over two thousand years, with the last to do it being a massively muscular warrior named Heracles. Mark had been surprised to hear of Greece's greatest hero coming to this world. But it made sense, if he could do make it to this world by accident after saving his friend from Aka Manah's hellish realm, then surely others could stumble into this realm from the afterlife or however Heracles did it.

It was because of this that Mark dungeon dived so recklessly, but he had reached a standstill at level 5, having spent over a year on the same level, while he had levelled up every few months prior to that. He had a feeling it would take something special to take the next step despite his already reckless, life risking, insane methods. Mark was impatient as a result, but at his current level, he would live another four or five hundred years. He had time, which is why he had decided to use a large portion of his money to open several businesses that benefited both him and the city since he would be stuck here for centuries at least, and he didn't like how the world stagnated on several important areas. This included a several clinics and orphanages; he had a soft spot for kids, and didn't like seeing so many begging on the streets of the city, or only those who could afford magic treatment getting quality help. Adel and later Hestia had saved him, and he didn't mind doing the same for others, which was why young Arde's situation angered him so greatly. Mark, now unable to dive so recklessly in the dungeon in order train young Bell, now had time to look around a bit more and deal with evil like the Soma more actively. Mark was a mongrel hybrid, but he was still an angel, and angels do not suffer sins and evil.

As the light created by his spell obscured his actions, Mark sliced a single of the gigantic casks, or perhaps the term vat would be more appropriate? In any case, once the light faded the brewers saw gallons of their precious drug spilling on the floor - rushing for it, much like the children had done, but Mark had already left for the next level, which turned out to be Soma's private workshop.

However it was guarded by two dozen level 1 adventurers, Mark could tell by their age and the way they carried themselves that they were much more experienced than the typical level 1. They simply hadn't been able to meet the requirements to level up, but likely had higher stats than the fools he had just slain. It made no difference of course as Mark had slain teams of level 4 and 5 adventurers within the dungeon, likely hired by Freya or those who sought revenge or a stat increase, Mark had long since confirmed that killing other people can provide towards one's Falna.

"You won't get any further, Dingir." A car eared man said, fully armoured and carrying a double headed axe so large that he had to of maxed his strength stats within level 1. Not that it mattered against him, neither was a top heavy weapon a good idea when fighting in a group.

"So you know who I am?" Mark replied, not slipping into his Dingir persona, he needed to focus on the mission, not a manic, mindless slaughter, though the heightened battle awareness was handy. (Not that he needed it.)

"You don't mix with others much, but you are rather famous these days."

"Then why stand in my way?" Mark asked. "You don't honestly think you can kill me, do you?"

"We will." Another replied while the others agreed, spreading out. Mark noticed two magic casters, muttering under their breaths, he felt the flare of mana, it felt like fire magic, Orochi skin protected from such things however. Mark reached inside his pocket for more throwing knives, however paused as he noticed a truly vile smell coming from the breaths of those closest to him. It was the smell of Soma, but it was much more intense. Mark knew he was an oddity and according to Loki it had a very sweet smell, but then he was neither a god nor ordinary mortal, as angels apparently couldn't stomach wine made by a heretic God.

"So Soma drugged you with his high class wine, didn't he?" Mark noted. "And he probably promised you a lot more if you take me down?" he further guessed. They didn't answer; their eyes were hard and cold now, focused on the kill and whatever high Soma provided.

Mark threw his knives at the two magic casters; however they were knocked aside by the others. 'Tch!' Mark grunted, charging forward to cut them down, however he didn't get more than a few steps before he sensed another spell caster from above.

"_Fulmations of heaven_… **Continuous Chain Lightning!**" A young girl called out from atop one of the vats. The lightning struck Mark, and while the Orochi skin was magic resistant, the Mythril armour he wore conducted the electricity extremely well. Mark screamed in pain as his nerves and muscles were overwhelmed with electricity, and moments later two fireballs struck him, sending him flying into the cask that the ambushing mage was on, who leapt to safety, being caught by one of the warriors, setting her behind him.

"We got him, we actually got him!" one cheered. Then the broken cask's Soma wine mixed with their fire spell and exploded with massive force, exploding the rest of them, luckily the lightning mage was behind one of the warriors and was spared the blast, the rest died immediately.

The young mage lay there stunned, with a few minor burns, she was regretting involving herself in Soma's guard, but at least Hestia's Monster was dead.

_Crash!_

_Bang!_

_Cough!_

She felt a sinking fear as from amidst the fire emerged a black cloaked figure, the flames seemingly unable to stick to the scaled leather. Mark emerged, a number of burns showing on his face, and his eyes bloodshot. He coughed several times before pulling out a silvery potion and downing it. The burns immediately vanished from his face, and assuming other parts of his body, yet his clothing and armour showed no damage.

"For a bunch of weaklings that was a good attempt." Mark said, drawing his All-Silver with one hand, while dropping the empty potion bottle with the other, it shattered. "Electricity isn't like other spells in that magic resistance only goes so far, it's still a conductive energy after all." Mark casually stabbed each of the downed drugged adventurers; none of them reacted; clearly killed by the explosion.

Mark regarded the brat had dealt him a surprising amount of pain. He crouched down to her, his now golden eyes piercing into her amber ones. "I've slain dragons, did you really think you could kill me with fire?" he asked, faintly mocking.

She was shaking, obviously expecting to be killed, lucky for her she wasn't one of the damned adventurers, though she'd often robbed weaker adventurers to fund her addiction, so she wasn't underserving of punishment.

"The lightning was a nice touch, I really need to add non-conductive metals to my equipment, don't you think?" he remarked, holding up a finger, channelling a little angelic power to form a crackling orb of blinding light. She flinched back from it, unaware that as a human, it would do her no harm.

"_Incinerate evil…_** Purget**!" the orb expanded in a flash, engulfing their surroundings. She screamed, covering her face, and when several moments passed and she was still fine, the young mage, lowered her arms and saw the intruder was gone. Dimly she heard the door to their god's door open and close. She was alone. Mark had pranked her as punishment. The young mage felt a sudden flood of relief and fled, tears streaming down her face.

The mage's name was Elena Echo and this wouldn't be the last time they met.

Meanwhile Mark observed the almost lab-like layout that was Soma's personal room. It smelled absolutely vile, and he gagged, catching the attention of the god.

"So you made it here?" Soma remarked; his eyes dull and unfocused. Mark could smell the same vile smell from Soma; he was likely as drugged as the others. "Useless trash, I gave them my newest vintage, what a waste of incentive to keep an intruder away."

Mark caught himself, wiping the bile from his mouth with a swipe of his sleeve.

"An interesting reaction," Soma remarked. "Most lose their senses within the fumes, but you appear to find it distasteful. It makes me wonder what kind of vintage would appeal to your preferences."

"I doubt anything you could make would appeal to me."

"Hmm?" Soma's eyes narrowed. "So you don't like any variety of Soma… Then why are you here?" he asked. "I assumed you were an adventurer seeking to steal my finest new creations, but that isn't it, is it?"

Mark frowned, was Soma really so indifferent? He had heard the story from Arde, but to see it for himself was a different matter entirely. Soma didn't seem truly evil, but this god had created many victims with the indifference and incentives he had created. This god needed to leave the mortal realm.

"No, it's not," Mark replied, covering the distance between them in an instant, he drew his newly purchased Karambit dagger, a massively curved, claw-like blade and stabbed it into the mortal body that Soma wore.

Soma's eyes widened in shock, red blood spewing with a gargling cough, but then Soma unleashed a surge of true divine power, breaking the oath, his body becoming luminous and the air heavy with his presence. Mark leapt back to avoid it, tearing the Karambit out, and with its almost hook shape left a massive, gaping hole, releasing blood at an alarming rate.

"Y-You dare?!" Soma screamed with indignation, his previous passivism melting away with the pride of god. "If you kill me, I make sure you're damned to Hell!" The wound, now spewing golden blood healed in an instant.

_(A/N: just running upstairs to kill a gigantic spider… and I'm back!)_

"I'm already bound for Hell, your threats are meaningless." Mark replied, casually dismissing him, while internally nervous. "Why don't you try again with something more meaningful?" Goading the god to use more of his divinity, so that the other gods would know who to banish, in his indignation Soma had forgotten the few rules he actually obeyed. Now that Soma was using his powers, Mark knew he didn't stand a chance. His angelic power was on par with a Seraph, but his body was mortal. When he faced down the evil god Nyarlathotep to help rescue some people, it had been a decidedly one-sided affair.

"You are nothing, you distain my wine and kill my brewers who aid my research, now face my wrath, human!" Soma growled, generating a massive swirling mass of golden divinity, concentrated, a simple attack that any god could do. But one no mortal could face.

"I am not human," Mark replied, no Dingir answered, slipping back into the emotional mask he wore in the dungeon and before when he hunted devils and demons. Six wings made of pure energy then appeared on his back and his entire body was engulfed with a raging white and golden aura, even as the whites of his eyes and his skin darkened into a blood red. "I am a Nephilim." Dingir continued.

_(Hey everyone, I just found out that Soma as a drug is real, and that Chandra – the dwarf, was another moon god whose myth got merged into the God Soma at a later date. I'm impressed Danmachi, going a little Campione or Fate-Stay-Night style, huh?)_

Soma, moon god of plants, vegetables, and drunkenness recognised the term and the energy that the adventurer emitted. It was from their original world, Earth, and this was a servant of the god that had banished them to an isolated spiritual realm.

"Yahweh's spawn!" Soma growled in realisation.

Soma's divine attack took the form of a massive chariot, and charged at Dingir at god speed, drawn by gigantic horses made of the same energy. _**"I am God of the Moon, the Hindi bow before me as I fly among the night, I am the chariot, I am the Elixir, and with this charge I am thy death!"**_ chanted Soma, mind lost in rage that his life work was rejected and that a mortal wound had been placed upon him.

The Soma's base exploded upwards as two divine manifestations collided, some of the children and women were killed as a result, along with a group of brewers who continued to slurp the high quality Soma wine that Mark spilled, even as everything was destroyed around them, but as much as they wanted to leave, the addiction wouldn't let them, and so they too died. Thankfully the rest had fled the building and now watched on in horror as their base, their home, their prison vanished.

But Dingir had not gone quietly into that good night, as he used divine power of his world.

'_**I am the creator of all things, I birthed all that has existed and all that will be, as such none are my equal or better, the supreme divine light shines high, all thought be mine gift, all reality be mine body, my very life fed to possibility, let my will be done, Origin Magic!'**_

Origin Magic, the act of connecting to the power of one's ancestors at the cost of one's health and lifespan to use power beyond their limits. Mark/Dingir was different to other adventurers in that he possessed magic already, and that purifying light was all he could use, upon gaining a Falna nothing changed, he was unable to learn this world's magic, only gaining the occasional skill.

For Mark, Origin had two forms, one channelling his many times removed grandfather Seraph Adel to form wings, greatly strengthening his power to exorcise the demonic. The other he had only used thrice, and each time nearly killed him as it allowed him to do almost anything. In another timeline of events where he got back to Earth, his uses of this magic caused him to age rapidly, and suffer many illnesses at a young age, at 26 he looked 50, with crooked joints, arthritis, and failing organs. This version of Dingir in Orario was very lucky, as Hestia's divinity also circulated within him, he was stronger now.

Dingir had channelled Yahweh for an instant to defend himself. As such he remained unharmed, but everything around him was destroyed. The many levels above them were simply gone.

Dingir, returning back to Mark watched on as Soma faded away with a curse, realising that by failing to kill him, Soma had used his power for too long and been found out by the other gods and was now being banished. Never again would Soma be able to return to this realm, it was better than Mark had hoped for.

Mark promptly vomited blood, and fell to one knee, his wings and red colouring fading, his bones and muscles screamed from using that power, his blood burning through his veins like acid, and unknown to him, he aged a single year in appearance and another tuft of his black hair turned white, but without being a level 5 and having Hestia's power within him, the price would be much worse.

"You're safe now Arde…" Mark curled up as the pain continued to get worse. Eventually it would fade, and he would aid those that had been spared for lack of sin, he had destroyed what they knew, and no more Soma would be made, so they would suffer greatly until the drug lost its hold. The children would be given to one of the newer orphanages he built, ruled by a tough former adventurer (level 4) she had dealt with the seedier parts of life and could be trusted to help the Soma children. While the hookers were given places to stay and helped to get normal jobs, as without Soma they had no reason to sell themselves, but the journey to recovery for them would be long and difficult.

Mark would later learn that the few Soma warehouses were raided that very day by some of the surviving addicts and those looking to steal Soma for resale. They sold for outrageous prices, but soon the divine wine would become a half-forgotten rumour.

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**To be continued in part 8**

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_**A/N:**__ Phew! That was a long one, nearly 5K. Well I'm sleepy. So see you later. Next chapter will be a long one too and include a dream sequence of Mark vs. Nyarlathotep._

* * *

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	8. Part 8: Weary and kind godslayer

**A/N:** Here's part 8, hope you enjoy it, and just to let you know the manga series **Zombie Hunters** (the sequel to my novel **Vampire Attack: Shadow Force **is now available online, my book includes a young Dingir much like this fanfiction. Though my involvement is minimal with the manga sequel, with my co-author Andre Duggan handling that part along with our new artist, as apparently Bryan Golden went and joined Marvel comics. Good for him.

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**Part 8 – Weary and kind Godslayer**

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(Dream Sequence)

_Kimberlain and Dingir had almost reached the entrance, which led to the levels beneath ground, and to the stairs which went directly to the dungeon, when to their surprise, a black portal swirled into existence behind them. They each felt a warning prickle of danger, followed by a miasma of darkness._

_'I know this feeling!' Kimberlain realised. She fired her pistols repeatedly into the portal. "It's him!" she declared._

_'Shit, so it came to this after all…' Dingir thought with frustration as the Dark Earl stepped through, or rather the newest incarnation of the chaos god Nyarlathotep._

_"Welcome to my humble abode," he said urbanely, made all the more eerie by the deep, echoing voice that sounding as if multiple people were speaking as one. "I would offer you something to eat or drink, but you're here…killing my pawns." Dozens of chains came out from his clothing; they rattled and thrashed like a den of startled snakes. "So you'll have to make due with a violent death instead." The weight of Nyarlathotep's existence hit them as he released his killing intent, they each tensed, teeth gritting as they felt compelled to kneel. They endured it._

_"I-I really is you, Shadow Master," Kimberlain stuttered, remembering their conflicts in the foggy city of London over a century ago…and the many lost lives._

_"That was my previous incarnation, I wear a different mask now," he replied. "I am the Dark Earl," he insisted, conveying a sneer with just his voice. "Now Kimberlain Knight, it's time for me to have my revenge upon you. I have already tortured your kinsmen, and when you reached here, I ordered their executions."_

_"What? No, you can't have!"_

_"Kimberlain, ignore him, go ahead, follow scenario 6-2, take charge, I'll deal with this."_

_"Right," Kimberlain replied, ignoring the panic that she'd felt when the Dark Earl implied her family had already been executed. She channelled that fear and panic into adrenaline, as she ran incredibly fast, covering the remaining distance, she broke the door down, not wasting any time as the chains followed her at high speeds. They almost reached her, but the Dark Earl suddenly dived back as an odd looking frag grenade was thrown into his face by the other intruder, who then immediately dived behind one of the tables, tilting it back to make a meagre barrier, much like Kimberlain had done earlier._

_Time slowed to the Dark Earl's godly senses, the grenade exploded, a small one, scattering tiny metal fragments in every direction, his chains moved to block them, but they exploded on contact, returning to the magic from which they were formed. His eyes bulged in surprise beneath his mask as the shards of metal burrowed into him; they were blessed with strong angelic power, tainted ever so slightly with the golden divinity of that 'thing'. The one his eternally sleeping father wished to kill. Yahweh._

_The Dark Earl knew a brief agonising pain, before his dark divinity overwhelmed the 'infection' and expelled the shards. He hit the ground hard, the explosion knocking him off balance, but he was fully healed in the space of a few seconds, but Dingir had already left his makeshift barrier to attack the Dark Earl, drawing a second weapon from beneath his clothing as he rushed forward. 'Damn brat!' the Dark Earl thought, creating more chains, this time made with much denser dark divinity, they wouldn't be dispelled this time. The intruder must have noticed the difference, as he evaded them instead of purifying them, which gave the Dark Earl time to stand. Calling his chains back to himself, he regarded the youngster, before making his next move._

_"I'm impressed," Nyarlathotep said, removing his mask, showing the featureless void of darkness that was his face, save for two round silver eyes. He didn't want the mask destroyed, it both allowed him to retain his humanoid form, and keep his presence hidden from the one who oversaw this world. This one might be able to damage it. Nyarlathotep absorbed the mask within himself to keep it safe._

_"Why?" Dingir asked, eyes flickering to the mask before it vanished, apparently it was important. "…Are you impressed?"_

_"That one of your kind still exists, however diluted by time, you could almost pass for a human, but the power of a Nephilim is not something I could forget," his chains began to writhe again. "While I look forward to seeing the look on Kimberlain's face when she discovers her kin dead, first I wish to see your shredded remains."_

_"Whatever turns you on…" Dingir said with a dismissive shrug. Nevertheless, a powerful white aura, that almost resembled flames engulfed his body and extended over his weapons as well, ready for the coming conflict. "But don't think I'm so precious to Heaven that my death would upset anyone, I'm just a guy that wants to kill every Devil."_

* * *

_The chains followed him about the dining hall like a ravenous mass of serpents, Dingir released bursts of angelic power at them to purify them and return them to nothingness, however Nyarlathotep had strengthened them to the point that they did little more than recoil from him. Unlike Dingir, the Dark Earl, limited as he was upon the Earth in his form and magic capacity could still almost endlessly draw forth more from his true body. Dingir knew he could not win in terms of power or by stamina, but his light, meagre though it was against the vast darkness, was strong enough to create brief openings for him to dodge and parry the chains. _

_He only needed to delay this evil until the rescue was complete, and if Kimberlain failed, he would immediately flee, while he risked his life on a regular basis, he refused to die. He had no desire to return to the fiery depths of Hell that Adel had rescued him from as a child._

_Nyarlathotep/Dark Earl suddenly vanished into a portal of his darkness, but not closing it, leaving the chains to their frenzied dance. Dingir braced himself for a sneak attack, he tightened his grip on his weapon, only for him to find he couldn't. The large knife clattered to the ground, Dingir's wrist and finger joints in his right hand were broken, hanging limply from his forearm._

_Nyarlathotep's fist hovered from a small portal behind him. Dingir swore, leaping back, only to be caught by a second small portal as the Dark Earl's arms suddenly reached through and grasped him firmly. "Got you!"_

_"Get off!"_

_Dingir tried to break away, but that brief opening was enough for the chains to wrap around him tight, from head to toe. Muscles screamed, bones creaked as they tightened. Both arms disappeared back into their respective portals._

_Nyarlathotep laughed and emerged from yet another portal - connected to the first and with inhuman strength he pulled his chains reacted and dragged Dingir through the first portal, he emerged later from the last portal at high speeds, and was sent hurtling into one of the walls. Blood spewed from the thin gaps in the chains before falling, crushing a table beneath him._

_"Well then…Shall we put an end to this, little Nephilim?" Nyarlathotep mocked, he wanted to see the corpses of the trio who had stopped him when he had worn the persona of the Shadow Master. However beneath the chains and coughed up blood, a single eye opened, once coloured grey, now burned golden with the heat and fury of the sun. The chains began to strain and creak._

_**In nomine coeli sto ...**_

_**Non pugnare contra malum ...**_

_**Pervenire ad originem sanguinis mei ...**_

_The Latin aria burned into Nyarlathotep's subconscious as the chains began to crumble. A Golden aura flared beneath the chains, then as one, they crumbled into dust, followed by a pulse of purifying energy hundreds of times stronger than before. It struck the Dark God, searing him, repelling him, tiny cracks appearing in his mask._

_With eyes that now boiled, he regarded six angelic wings made of pure unadulterated power on his enemy's back. Dingir rose on shaky legs, his skin reddening as though dyed or burnt, while bulging veins visibly showed on his face and viewable flesh._

_'Origin Magic: Seraphim Mode!' More chains were created but were obliterated before they could get close._

_The aspect of the Dark Earl that existed within the mask realised that this could potentially kill his current avatar, and though it was a risk, he pulled out his mask from within himself and broke it in half. Allowing a mass of dark divinity to fill him that exceeded his avatar's capacity, in response to this, the form of a man began to change into something more monstrous. _

_He quickly reconnected the mask, it stuck on contact, but left an almost scar-like mark down the middle. Nyarlathotep placed the mask back on in order to contain the transformation enough so that he wasn't noticed and pulled from the world by Yahweh's defences. The mask rested like a nose atop the gigantic fanged maw that began to grow, clawed limbs, spikes, and tentacles burst from his back, replacing the chains, which clearly weren't up to the task._

_**"LET'S PUT AN END TO THIS, I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS TO DEAL WITH THAN THE LIKES OF YOU."**_

_"Which is why you won't be leaving," Dingir replied, a horrific killing intent radiating from him, nearly matching that of the Dark God in his partial transformed state._

* * *

_Dingir vomited blood as he pulled one of the purple-black tentacles from his stomach. The Dark Earl, or rather Nyarlathotep had a body of shadows, tentacles, and a gigantic maw that lowered down to his waist, he still had a vaguely humanoid shape, in that he had two arms and two legs, but they were horned, spiked, and clawed. If not for the ridiculous amount of battle experience Dingir had accrued in his short life, he would have been killed many times over._

_Demons and Devils were his specialty, a Dark God was outside his skillset, while stronger and faster than a normal person due to his mixed bloodline, it wasn't at the level of the inhuman. Dingir's magic was purely of purification, and ill-suited to his current foe, particularly now that Nyarlathotep had abandoned his human form in order to kill him._

'_I'm going to have to flee without them, if this goes on much longer…' Dingir conceded with irritation. He didn't like admitting failure, but neither would he truly risk his life for a bunch of lesser demons, like these vampires and werewolves._

_The Dark God regarded its tentacle, which was badly burned by Dingir's angelic power when he'd plunged the appendage into his guts. "It's rather disappointing when you don't fall, scream, and beg for mercy."_

"_This level of pain is…__**nothing!**__" Dingir growled back with absolute resolution. His eyes one again burning golden, and his presence becoming even more dangerous, even as his white angel wings flickered like static, barely able to maintain themselves. Dingir's right arm hung limp and twisted, while his body was covered in nasty gashes, much of his clothing was burnt or torn off, exposing muscles built for combat, along with nasty scars and discolorations from gruelling battles against Devils. Not the body one would expect of a teenager. Blood covered him; his body subtly shook with exhaustion, but that look in his eyes made Nyarlathotep believe the young Nephilim's words._

"_Is that so?" the god remarked. "I was hoping to break you. But it seems killing you will be much easier."_

"_But not today," Nostrum then interrupted, appearing between the two, phasing through the floor with his vampiric powers. The old vampire pulled out his remaining explosives and hurled them at the monstrosity, and the ceiling above, causing a shower of rubble, that along with the explosions and smoke provided an opportunity to flee. Dingir wisely stopped using his Seraphim mode, the wings vanished, and he consciously suppressed his normal, passive level of angelic power as much as he could to avoid harming Nostrum, upon doing so, his legs gave out beneath him._

_Nostrum pulled out his plastic raincoat which was to be used to avoid the holy water that Mark had added to the enemy base's sprinkler system, but due to his location when the sprinklers were activated, he hadn't needed to use it. Nostrum wrapped it around Dingir, so the angel blood wouldn't burn the vampire, while also providing a layer of protection from the angelic power via skin contact, though Dingir was thankfully suppressing his power as much as possible, knowing Nostrum's intentions were to rescue him. With his vampiric speed, Nostrum had done this and carried Dingir away in a matter of seconds._

_The corridors were a blur as Nostrum fled at high speeds towards another exit, he easily evaded the few survivors inside the castle, the others had done their job well. Dingir's eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, his skin dangerously pale from blood loss. But still he begrudgingly spoke these words to the vampire, in little more than a whisper. "Thank you."_

* * *

**(Scene change)**

Mark awoke in the craterous remains of the Soma Familia, every part of his body still burned and pulsed with leftover pain from using Origin Magic and connecting it to Yahweh rather than his more immediate kin, the Seraph Adel. Yet it had been needed to survive the full strength of a god being thrown at him. Perhaps that was why in his pain fevered dreams; Mark had turned to his memories of the only other god he had faced in battle. It had been a world away, and as an evil god, his usual powers had some effect, that hadn't been the case here.

"Urgh…" Mark slowly clambered to his feet, unsteady, head swimming, a subtle shake to his limbs, but he soon began to climb up the several levels of destroyed base to return to street level. Based upon the position of the sun, he couldn't have been unconscious for more than an hour. "Slow and steady," he muttered to himself. "I don't want to fall right now." His ascent continued. Eventually Mark made it back to the entrance of the Soma Familia, and found many of those he had spared still there, horrified, stunned, and no idea of what to do now.

'Shit… Many of them were victims too; I'd best handle the after care if I want to keep the moral high ground.' Mark thought, stepping forward, allowing his exhaustion and pain to be hidden by his body language. Strong, confident, assured. Many pulled back. Urgh! Speaking in public was not natural to him, though he wasn't a shy person by nature.

"Ahem… Soma is now dead. I killed him. As such your Falna is sealed unless another god takes you. As of now the Soma Familia is dissolved." Mark stated firmly, his voice carrying.

Some looked happy, some relieved, many fearful. The Soma was a horrible place to live, but for many it was all they knew, others bound there by violence or addiction.

"What are we supposed to do now?" one asked, a scrawny women holding a child who was in a similar state.

"I killed Soma to save someone, however I will see to it that you are taken care of until you can find your own way." Mark replied. He owned plenty of places they could stay, and plenty of favours he could cash in to find them work. But first they had to fight past the inevitable withdrawal. But that wasn't his battle.

* * *

_**(Hestia HQ)**_

Arde now treated of her wounds and dressed in new and clean clothes waited worriedly while Bell guarded the entrance, losing none of his wariness even after all this time. She felt far safer than she ever had as Hestia gently held her, caressing her hair absently, the goddess was warm and soft, and how she hoped a mother would be.

'If only Soma-sama was like this, my life would have been different.' Arde thought, wishing once again that she had born to anyone else. But once again strangers were showing her kindness, and yet once again she hoped things would turn out differently. But could the man who saved her truly stop Soma's adventurers from hunting her? He was strong yet she feared for his safety, in his eyes she saw a man who understood evil and had lived at the cost of pain and misery, he was like her.

Hours later, when Arde was on the verge of sleep, she felt Hestia stiffen in shock. **"That idiot…"** Hestia quietly growled, her body gaining a luminous aura. Arde's eyes widened as she felt undiluted divinity. Then the room was filled with quiet mutterings and ended when Hestia said, **"So agreed - Banished."** There was a subtle pulse that all the adventurers felt as Soma was banished from Genkai back to Tenkai.

Bell observed the change with a similar expression as the goddess showed her divinity, as the whispers ended, Hestia's aura dispersed, and the goddess sighed. "That idiot…"

"What happened, Hestia-sama?" Bell asked.

Hestia turned to Arde to answer. "Arde-chan, the god Soma has been banished and no longer able to return to this world. As such all of his familia have had their Falna and powers sealed."

"Huh?"

"R-Really?" stuttered Arde, a chaotic surge of emotions within her, along with disbelief, "How?"

"The other gods don't know, but I can guess," Hestia replied. "Mark must have pushed Soma to use his divine powers against him to the extent that all of us gods could tell which god was responsible and then banish Soma for breaking our most important rule."

"Is Mark okay?" Bell demanded, frightened at the thought of a god's full strength being unleashed on a mortal. Arde's face fell at Bell's words.

Hestia smiled. "Mark's alive; I can sense my connection to him via the Falna contract we made."

The two level 1's relaxed.

"But how could Mark survive against a god, even if he's a level 5…" Bell began.

"A level 5's power is a meagre wisp compared to the blazing inferno that is a god's power." Hestia replied, "…But Mark is different to other mortals, he had magic and power long before I gave him a Falna."

"Mark has magic?" Bell noted with surprise, as he had never seen him use magic in the dungeon… but then he recalled how his Senpai's eyes would glow when annoyed, changing from grey to a molten gold.

"Yes, but its neither mortal magic nor racial magic from any source I recognise, even his Falna don't reveal much about it, on his status updates it is just listed as Exorcist and was S rank from when he was level 1." Hestia explained. "I can't begin to imagine how much he must have used it before we met, but then he never talks about his past." Hestia rambled a bit, but then she'd always wanted to discuss it with someone.

Mark was a private person and his past was never up for discussion. Even to this day she didn't know where he came from, who had hurt him so badly, and while Hestia knew he had a family name, she didn't know if his parents were alive or if he even had siblings. Not that she didn't know anything about her first child, as he was willing to divulge his likes and dislikes, though much of it also came from observation over two years.

Despite his violent and aggressive actions in the dungeon, Hestia saw he was a polite, albeit teasing man, he was kind, not only to her but to others in general, but only if they met his criteria. He had a soft spot for kids and had secretly opened several orphanages to aid in the formally rampant number of homeless children, along with dozens of clinics, and assisted living buildings for the poor. Each building had his personal mark, but few gods and adventurers knew that the logo belonged to him. An eight pointed line star with the upper left lines ending with triangles.

_(A/N: The actual Sumerian symbol for Dingir btw)_

Hestia had long since reduced the percentage he of Valis he had to give the familia due to the absurd amount he made with each trip, making hundreds of millions of Valis from hunting high level monsters in mass.

Other than that, his expenses were low for an adventurer, as all his equipment was either cheap or made from parts he farmed in the dungeon himself. This led him with a massive amount to invest, and while many simply cost him money, other investments were producing high profits and largely self-sufficient at this point. It was almost like he had his own non-combat familia.

Hestia's thoughts were broken when she realised Arde was crying.

"What's wrong?"

"It's over, isn't it?" Arde sniffed. "I'm finally safe, aren't I?"

Hestia engulfed Arde with a hug. "Yeah, you are."

Meanwhile Bell smiled at Arde being saved and Hestia's kindness… then a momentary flicker of jealously at Arde being smooshed into Hestia's ample breasts before flushing slightly and returning to guarding the entrance to their home. Several people had hung outside their home looking irritated, but soon left, but then they might have just been irritated customers wanting to get into the bakery.

* * *

_**(Hours later)**_

It wasn't until dawn was peeking out over the rooftops of Orario that Mark returned to the Hestia bakery. Unlocking the door with his key, he all but stumbled into the room. His clothing smelt burnt, and his eyes were bloodshot, he looked extremely tired, and a faint shake mixed into every movement.

Mark's eyes met with Bell's and he smiled. "Hey brat," he said.

"Welcome back, Senpai." Bell smiled back, hurrying over to lend him a shoulder. Mark minutely protested before allowing his Kouhai to half-carry him into the living quarter's common room. "So… did you fix everything?" he asked.

Mark snorted. Hestia would have sensed and aided in the banishment, and then told Arde and Bell that the matter was resolved to bring the young Pallum girl relief from her horrible situation. "Yeah, the matter was resolved just fine, though Soma proved to be a little tougher and dumber than I was expecting. Still nothing ale and sleep can't fix."

Bell laughed. "Are there any adventurers that aren't drunks?"

"Of course," Mark replied. "There's a certain elf friend of mine who never drinks, but she and all of us have a coping mechanism to deal with the stress of the dungeon, Alf reads her erotic romance novels, some of us drink or pay for a woman's company, or focus ourselves on hobbies."

Bell flushed at the mentioned of hiring women from the red light district. Not surprising, given his age it would be odd if he wasn't a virgin. Heck Mark who had been several years older had been a virgin in his original world, as being a demon slayer didn't leave much time for romance. If not for a particularly frisky group of amazons he might never have developed a taste for it, being so focused on his goals.

"So what's yours?" Bell asked.

"Hmm?" Mark sleepily replied.

"Your distraction?" Bell clarified.

"You're not old enough to hear that," Mark chuckled, making Bell flush crimson at the implication. That was a lie though; Mark drank, but seldom to the extent of other adventurers. He visited the red light district, but rarely for sex, he had subordinates and allies working there, some that couldn't be fully trusted. He read a great deal and his room was covered wall to wall with full bookshelves and he endlessly refined his martial arts, largely foreign concepts in this world save for sword styles, and even then it wasn't at the standard of his world. Monsters were like machines, but he didn't allow his skills to grow dull, not with many adventurers trying to kill him.

His true distraction was his decoding and potential recreation of the Falna system. Something that could get him lynched by the gods if he interfered in their precious system, but Mark had plans for it. Not only as a potential shortcut to getting level ups by figuring out all conditions to each one, but also to do something no mortal ever had done, to be a mortal with a familia of his own. Using a new system of Falna that prevented abuses of power… But this was a matter of the future. For now he had destroyed a corrupt familia, saved those worth saving, and given an abused little girl her freedom. If Mark didn't feel so tired and pained from using Origin and the tiresome details of aiding the survivors he had spared, Mark would allocate some time to feeling smug.

"Thank you!" cried out the young Pallum, having heard Mark return, leaping into him for a hug and knocking both him and Bell to the ground, latching onto Mark for dear life. "Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, kid."

Arde continued to hold on for dear life, sobbing into Mark's garb and clearly had no intention of letting go, so he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "Now I can say it. Arde, it's going to be okay now, you're safe."

* * *

**To be continued in part 9**


	9. Part 9: World and comrade left behind

_**A/N:**__ This is mostly a bonus chapter like before. Feel free to skip this if you want; like some of you did with the dream sequence in the last part. You know who you are. ;) But there is some main story at the end._

_(__**Updated:**__ Quite a bit of main/cannon story now in this part, so skim to the scene change with Mark in bed with a young lady if you don't want to catch up on what Hickson has been up to since his partner Mark failed to return to his original world.)_

* * *

**Part 9 – The world and comrade left behind (mostly Bonus chapter)**

_DanMachi x Grey Faction_

* * *

The pale light of the moon filtered erratically through the black clouds on a warm summer night, accompanied by a smattering of stars and a faint wind. On this night, in a particular sleepy village on the boundaries of the quaintly named Devils Dyke, was a bald headed man covered in tattoos which seemed to faintly glow blue in the dim light, was moving quietly, footsteps soft, as he approached the haunted church.

His name was John Hickson, but preferred to be called by his surname only. Hickson's purpose on this night was to investigate the supposed haunting and if needed, deal with the entity.

The city council had sent one of their staff to his little occult supplies store to hire him for his exorcist skills. Such requests came his way upon occasion. In order to create products that would appeal to fans of the occult, he had researched to a ridiculous extent and ended up creating products that actually worked on spirits, monsters, and demonic beings. Since then his scam turned actual business had attracted customers from both sides and he found himself frequently in dangerous situations.

But that's what his magical tattoos were for. The ink was blessed and infused with magic and holy power, and the tattoos themselves were full of micro magic seals to protect and heal him from supernatural threats. Because of this he could even meet the Devil and do business safely, and had on a few occasions.

According the information he was given, any man that entered the church would be pursued by a floating skeleton, consisting of only a skull and torso. Though there had been numerous injuries, they seemed to be rather a result of the builders, staff, and occasional visitors tripping and falling as they tried to outrun the spirit. It wasn't likely a threat, but they wanted it gone. So here he was, wasting away a perfectly good evening.

Using his extra senses, he searched for any magic or demonic presence. Of course as he was in a graveyard there were the shadowy whispers of the long death, vague remnants that held no power or consciousness. Deeper within the church however was a much stronger remnant with an obsessive grudge keeping it in this world and capable of independent action. Enough to be called a ghost, but he did not sense an inherent evil, despite the strength of the grudge that emanated from the ghost. That was reassuring at least.

Hickson was a support and supply kind of guy. He once had his occasional assistant Mark for crude applications of violence, emphasis on 'had.' Several years ago his friend had rescued him from Aka Manah's Hell dimension after being kidnapped; however the Devil had dragged Mark back into Hell to continue their fight. The Seraph Adel later assured him that Mark had killed the powerful being and left Hell… However he had never returned to Earth, and once again he was lacking a partner.

Hickson had his part timers, but they only managed the store and stock supplies, he would have to do this alone.

Keeping low to avoid being spotted and suppressing his magic to not give away his position, he moved on hurried steps towards the church's gigantic wooden doors, leaning his shoulder against it, he pushed hard against it and after minutes of grunting, the door grudgingly opened with a painfully loud screech of rusty hinges and scrapping wood. Inside it was dark and musty, a pale cast of light from the moon was the only lighting. Glancing about he began to explore the church.

"Jeez, they really let this place go to the dumps," Hickson noted, as he regarded the dusty, abandoned building, absently making the sign of the cross as he stepped through the threshold, a long standing habit from when religion was more prevalent in society.

He slowly walked down the long corridor, each side littered with pamphlets, though most were scattered on the floor. The floors themselves were thick with dust, Hickson brought a cloth to his face to stem any coughing that would occur. The corridor opened out into the alter and the mass of pews for the congregation. The pews were mostly rotted, and many were scattered about the room, eyes flickering about, he spotted discarded building equipment and hard hats, given the mess, the last contractors to repair the church had left in a heck of a hurry.

As most of the sightings had taken place here, Hickson set up several tiny cameras to record any possible sightings, just in case he failed to find it tonight. He snorted at the thought, a ghost wouldn't prove difficult. He had saved the world on a few occasions for pity's sake.

Time to explore then, swiftly making his way through the many rooms within the building, unfortunately hours later, and heavily frustrated at being unable to locate his quarry within the church or the surrounding structures and cemetery, Hickson returned to the once alleyway, and its many scattered pews, where he had set up the cameras, as this was where most of the sightings had occurred. Fortunately, if it had returned while he searched elsewhere, the recordings were instantly uploaded and sent wirelessly to his pc.

"What a bloody waste of time," he muttered angrily, it seemed he would need to set up a series of traps drag the ghost out of hiding and contain it, so that he could purify it, or straight up banish it to the other side, should it prove resistant to complying. Sadly he lacked the brushes, mana rich ink, and the designs for the seals, which he kept in books at his shop. He couldn't fight what wasn't there to attack and defend against.

"Well I better come back tomorrow then..." He sighed in defeat, far too frustrated to make a return visit for the needed equipment.

As he walked down the aisle, Hickson paused mid-step as a cold chill ran down his spine. It was clear to feel that the obsession that formed the spirit had converged on his position, turning with forced calm, he bit back a startled shriek as the empty sockets of a skull stared into his eyes, mere inches apart from his own, he was hit with a strong stench of decay, making his eyes water. Why did it stink? It was supposed to be a ghost.

As the stare down between the two continued, put off, Hickson opened his mouth to speak to the ghost, but leapt back as the skeletal ghost suddenly lunged at him with its head. Now with some distance between them, he could make out the ghost's form in full, oddly it was just a skeleton, though missing the arms and legs, it hovered ominously before him. It seemed a strange choice of form to choose, but he soon realised as his magic tattoos analysed the being before him and sent the results directly into his brain, that the ghost had wrapped itself around the remains of an actual person to wear its form.

"Well that's interesting, didn't know ghosts could do stuff like that," Hickson remarked, slowing moving further away, knowing that a purification/banishment spell took several seconds to activate, best not to be in range. His tattoos began to glow.

"Where are you going?" The skeleton enquired, though its mouth didn't mouth, lacking the ligaments and muscles. The voice was warped and distorted, but it was unmistakably the voice of a young woman.

"What do you mean?" Hickson replied, his palms crackling with purifying magic.

"You are not allowed to go, we haven't finished yet." The ghost informed him, before suddenly flying towards him, who in response blasted it with magic, taking the form of a blinding blue light, upon contact, there was a shriek, a small detonation, scattering dust, smoke, and debris in every direction.

Hickson coughed heavily from the thick dust, close to retching, cupping his hands over his mouth he tried to avoid breathing in anymore as the dust finally began to settle, he was stunned to see that the skeletal ghost was unharmed. "Impossible..." That spell was capable of blowing a hole in even powerful demons, a ghost should be no trouble. It would destroy anything with even the slightest amount of evil intent, how could a ghost created by such a strong obsession that it even pregnated their surroundings be immune to his unique magic? "It even attacked me...What is going on?"

"Don't leave, come here," the ghost ordered, its presence or rather obsession growing even stronger. Distinctly puzzled and unsettled by this unexpected situation, Hickson, much like the spooked workers, turned and ran as fast as could, even vaulting the pews and overturned building equipment without slowing pace.

The skeletal ghost followed in hot pursuit. Trying to hold back a childish sounding scream, Hickson dived through the archway, hoping the ghost couldn't leave the confines of the church, the others haunted had been unbothered by it at that point. Stumbling to his feet, he glanced back, only to smashed into by the ghost's ribcage with surprising force, sending them both tumbling down the stone steps.

Hickson grit his teeth as his kin was badly grazed against the steps, they landed in an interlocked pile, he swiftly booted the skeleton, forcing the ghost off of him. "Stop chasing me damn it, I just want to send you to the other side." He growled out in irritation.

"I won't pass on, I can't, I refuse, we're not finished yet!" The ghost declared, slowly rising into the air once again.

"We've got nothing to finish!" Hickson yelled back, continuing to flee, running from the church and through the surrounding graveyard, weaving among the gravestones and tombs, heading towards the exit.

"LIES!" Shrieked the ghost, flying after him. "I won't say that you forgot!" Its supernatural power flaring dangerously, almost like a demonic being. At that moment Hickson paused mid-step as he felt the ground beneath him wriggle and writhe - a mistake. The ground burst open, and he narrowly avoided being grabbed by a bony hand that came from beneath the grass and earth, its flesh rotten, bones exposed, wriggling maggots hanging from its digits.

"Just how strong is the obsession that created this ghost that it can animate the dead?" Hickson gasped, kicking the extending arm hard enough to rip its hand from the wrist, sending it soaring into the shadows of the night, disappearing from sight. "Damn, that's so fucking gross," he spat out as the rancid smell of the dead hit his nose with vengeance. The rest of the corpse began to force itself upwards through the earth.

A short distance away the ghost watched the commanded dead rise, ordering it to, "Take him down the aisle." Her voice was soft, she then turned her attentions to Hickson, her tone becoming harsh, "You're not leaving me again."

'Again?' thought Hickson as he slipped away from the corpse's one handed grasps. 'Who does she think I am?' He pondered as he charged magic to his hand, and striking the corpse with his palm, a glowing circle appeared on the creature, drawing itself into a spell, glowing with blue light, the animated corpse fell back, turning to powdered bone and flesh as it landed, with only a few surviving maggots writhing amidst the mixture. While it was only being controlled, the tattoos that made up the basic of his magic had decided they were similar enough to undead like zombies and dealt with it swiftly. Watching this unfold, the ghost nervously pulled back in surprise.

Having bested the corpse, he cautiously regarded the ghost, ready to run again. 'Whatever she's talking about must be related to the obsession that created it, I know she doesn't have any eyes, but a ghost doesn't need them...' that made him internally chuckle, 'Ghosts are made from leftovers of what the living leave behind, perhaps she doesn't remember who she's after, a strong but incomplete memory...?'

It was then he noticed the earth begin to warp and protrude upwards as more corpses tried to claw their way free. Not wishing to disturb the dead any further and lacking the means to combat an apparently non-evil but deeply rooted ghost, he quickly yelled in parting, "I'll see you tomorrow night, I'm ill prepared for the festivities!" and with that Hickson cleared the next twenty meters to the exit on swift steps before the rest of the dead could burst through the earth entirely and give chase. Reaching the dividing wall that separated the church from the nearby village, he leapt over it, rolled forward into a standing position and kept running, soon disappearing from sight.

At the ghost's unspoken order, the animated dead that verged on breaking through the soil, delved back downward into the dark. She stared into the darkness and the vanishing exorcist. "That's the first time a groom said that he would return," the ghost mused. "See you tomorrow then..." the voice little more than a whisper, she turned and floated back towards the church, humming a song which carried eerily across the night's wind.

Now certain that it wasn't following him, Hickson returned to his occult supply store, or rather the nearest shop front that was magically linked to its true location nearly a world away. Pushing the random door open, he was transported instantly as his first step landed on the aged wood floor, and even though it was the early hours of the morning, his store was still busy with customers, mostly occult fans buying themed merchandise, while separated by a dividing barrier, symbolised by a strip down the middle of the store, were the demon shoppers as well.

The divide acted more for the demons safety than the humans, as church trained exorcists also frequently brought his wares. People without magic or the sight couldn't see beyond the dividing strip, and merely saw a wall, but the exorcists could and would attack them if not for his barrier. If you were a customer there was no discrimination, no matter what you were. Inside his store, Hickson was completely neutral with the strife between heaven and hell.

The demons and exorcists would occasionally shout abuse at each other, but mostly ignored their opposites. On the plus side they paid well, and often supplied him in return with blessed items that he couldn't make himself. They also used to supply him with holy water, but as one of his friends was part angel, he could now get his tap water turned into holy water in exchange for dinner, it was very convenient.

As he passed through the store, heading for the stairs at the back, leading upwards to the second floor where he lived, he passed by his customers, who largely ignored his presence, save to look at him when he first entered, though a few gave him a brief greeting as he walked by. Near the base of the stairs was a single cashier point, where one of his long term employees, Orcsan was currently working, looking after the store in his absence.

Orcsan was like many of his customers, a demon. Not the monsters from hell you here about in church or horror fiction. The term 'demon' refers to beings that were descended from the true devils, but also had human in their ancestry; as such they were far less dangerous than their parents, but still very powerful in terms of brute strength or magical ability. Because of their physical differences they were hunted by humans in the past and now lived in communities and cities protected by magic so that most people didn't even know they existed.

Orcsan was largely human in appearance, save for a third eye and their unusual colouration, she had the appearance of being in her fifties, a sour matronly woman, but like Hickson she was far older than she appeared. As she heard the creak of the wooden flooring, she glanced up with a scowl, "You're late."

"I'm not in the mood right now, I've already wasted my evening," Hickson muttered back, massaging his temples. She did good work, but was ever grating.

Orcsan smiled with a hint of a smirk, "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea, the ghost they sent me to exorcise didn't qualify as an evil entity even though it was violent and deeply rooted, so my evil banishment spell inside my tattoos didn't work, and unfortunately I didn't bring any brushes or ink to make up something that could, ended up having to run for it." Hickson complained, exasperated with himself. This wasn't the first time he had messed up on a small job from lack of preparation.

"So not an evil spirit huh?" Orcsan repeated, "In that case, are you going to drop the job?"

"Of course not," he replied. "I just need to research a little for a magic seal that can trap and destroy a ghost, regardless of what kind it is. I'll research it tomorrow morning and get this settled that evening."

"Wouldn't it be better to figure out the circumstances that created it and help it cross over peacefully instead?" suggested Orcsan, "We non-humans aren't all evil, you know." Her tone reproachful, Hickson could be too heavy handed when handling exorcisms or fighting demons/devils, he viewed any target as something to be simply eliminated in order to be paid. But it wasn't always that simple. But when on the job, he didn't really value other life. "You don't have to destroy everything." She reminded him.

"You didn't feel the strength of the obsession, it was seriously scary, and it animated the dead in the graveyard...and yeah, I didn't mean to imply anything, sorry." He paused, realising her implication.

"It's fine," she replied, "But if the ghost is that strong, then the whatever circumstances created it was probably a major incident, go talk to the council and see if there were any murders or something at the church, or look up old newspaper articles and the like, use your brain a little and see if you can get the ghost to cross over peacefully."

Hickson regarded his demonic colleague, it was clear she would make things difficult if he didn't at least try, sighing in defeat, he replied, "Okay, I'll see if I can learn the ghost's identity and any traumas surrounding their death."

"Good." Orcsan replied, nodding with a small smile. Neutral or good spirits deserved some consideration when being made to pass on from this world. Just as demons deserved from humans.

"But!" Hickson interjected, "I want **you** to get my sealing equipment sorted out for trap and banishment in case I can't turn up any useful information for your preferred ending."

Orcsan's smile dipped somewhat, but she replied, "Fine! But no slacking off on purpose so you can favour your lazy violent methods."

"I'll be good," he promised. "Well I'm off to bed."

"Good night, slacker." She grunted.

"I am the boss, you know," he complained as he ascended the stairs, only to duck and flee the next moment, as she began hurling merchandise up at him.

Gaining access to the town records the following morning had proven difficult as he lacked the authorisation to go fiddling through their paperwork, and the person who had hired him was taking the day off. Given his unconventional appearance, he was denied entry, so he made use of the nearby library's computers instead, and began searching online for any newsfeeds or discussion/topic threads relating to the church, any special occasions, or tragic occurrences in recent memory.

The library itself also had scans of local newspapers, going back quite a number of years, even coping over the far older editions, using the internet he would pull up the dates of any likely incidents and cross reference it with the newspaper scans for more in depth information as anything major would likely make the local paper at the very least.

As he moved his search closer to the present, he could also look up any names mentioned on social media as many did in-depth descriptions of any events they attended, typically with a camera phone or tablet device in hand. Though it wasn't until he looked up incidents as recent as ten years ago that he found a likely candidate for the ghost's identity, relating to a murder at the church, when in the midst of a wedding service, the bride was murdered by what was later revealed to be a jealous ex.

It seemed to click with his intuition, and he began a background check of both the bride and groom, there wasn't much on the bride, save for a few photos, as social media at that point had been very prevalent, however did find out that the husband had remarried in that same church a year later. "Ouch!" Hickson laughed half-mockingly, "Talk about moving onto new love quickly."

He clicked through a few more articles and links, in particular interviews with the deceased's family, reading through them, it soon became apparent how much the wedding had meant to her based upon her family's comments. "Certainly more that hubby did," he commented idly. "Even marrying in the same place...!" It hit him like a bolt of lightning, a sharp realisation. Hickson began to laugh into palm, thoroughly creeping out those around him. He couldn't be certain yet, but if she was the ghost then it all made sense, a traumatic death, further trauma after death, bound in the only place that she sought her future, but having to watch unseen as the man she loved married another, forever unable to complete her own wedding ceremony with him. Yes, it would be possible to create a ghost with such as strong obsession to remain in this world under such a scenario.

Perhaps her haunting was an attempt to find a replacement, only men had reported sightings of the skeletal ghost. He would have to ask her tonight, but first he had some preparations to make.

Orcsan had begrudgingly agreed with his plan, for a woman with such a stern visage, she was such as softy. But she had quickly located and drawn up the design for an all-purpose banishment seal, and the magic infused ink he would require to draw it in the event that his assumption regarding the ghost's identity proved incorrect, he would be able to settle the matter tonight, one way or another. It was a matter of profit, a haunting where nobody had been killed, unfortunately didn't pay particularly well, so why invest too much time? Curse breaking and defeating devils, that's where the money was, though he needed his partner in crime for those. Too dangerous otherwise.

Before night fell, as the sun was on the verge of setting, casting an orange glow to the sky, many of the local villagers and passing cars would see on the outskirts of the old church, a bald man in a black suit, moving about the perimeter of the church's walls, inking the surfaces with magical seals, which with his skills would join together to form a massive field spell that would destroy all spirits within. Whether he needed it however remained to be seen. Putting away his equipment in an old rucksack, which he hid in a nearby bush, he vaulted the walls to make his final preparations for 'plan A' within the church itself. Hopefully the marionette dead would leave him be as he passed the many graves.

The moon's light spread out amidst the scattered yet glittering stars. Night had come. In a grave, mostly hidden by overhanging trees, something stirred. A promise had been made to meet again. The earth rippled back and from it floated a ghost wrapped around a dead woman's skull and torso. She could sense that man's strange magic lingering in the air, he was here. Would it be tonight or yet another disappointment? Resolve firm, the ghost floated towards the church.

"This is?" Had she eyes, they would have widened at the interior change, everything had been cleaned and swept, candles lined the corridors, creating a subtly pleasant atmosphere. Bemused the ghost floated down, the corridor opened out to the pews and alter at the furthest end, where she had planned to be married before. The once scattered piles of pews and been neatly returned to the correct place, the floors and alter had all been cleaned, as for the building equipment the builders had left behind had been hidden in a corner and beneath a sheet. What was going on?

"Good evening, Clarissa," greeted Hickson, stepping out with a bouquet of roses in hand. The ghost gasped upon hearing her mortal name. How long had it been since she had heard it spoken aloud?

"How did you know?"

"I looked it up, I know what happened," he informed her with false confidence, while internally relieved, 'Good, so I got it right...'

"What's all this?" Clarissa asked.

"Your wedding of course, that's what you've been waiting for, isn't it?" He asked, prompting. "What's been keeping you in this realm?"

Clarissa was rooted to the spot, all the others she had sought as an emergency replacement, had simply screamed and fled, could this be it? The single thing trapping her in the mortal world, could she finally be free? Hickson surprised her again by placing a wedding a veil on her skull.

"There you go," he said, "Unfortunately I was unable to get a dress with so little time," he added, keeping a smile firmly in place, the true reason being that they were bloody expensive, he had asked in Orcsan had one, she had doubled over laughing to his request, Christianity hadn't existed when she had picked her mate, and by extension that religion's style of ceremonial garb, and Hickson was sure as hell not going to buy one, it would wipe out his profits, a simple haunting didn't **that** pay much.

Clarissa seemed pleased however as she twirled about with her veil as it trailed prettily behind her. 'Well at least she likes it.' Hickson thought.

"Seeing as I lack hands, how do you suppose I hold them?" Clarissa queried Hickson when she returned her attention to the bald exorcist and the roses he held.

"Well..." Hickson hesitated, he didn't have any string or tape to hand, and he had a feeling that getting this as close to the real thing was the safe decision. But then how to get her to hold the bouquets? As it was only a skull and torso... with an empty ribcage. 'Of course!' He realised he could make a vase of sorts from her ribcage, now if only that didn't sound like the lines of a deranged serial killer. Under these very unique circumstances, it was acceptable. "Here, I have an idea!" he said, motioning her closer.

"Oh?" she said as Hickson began to slide roses through the gaps in her ribs to create a messy bouquet of roses. When he was finished, she glided to a nearby mirror, she giggled in delight. "Oh I love it!" she cried. "How thoughtful of you..." She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't even know you name yet!"

Now that made him genuinely chuckle, it was rather ridiculous that they had yet to exchange names, even if he was merely 'playing' a role. "It's a pleasure to meet you, the names John Hickson; I run a humble occult supplies store called the 'Demon Workshop'." He informed her, "I also engage in a little exorcist work."

"That would be how you dealt with the others," noted Clarissa, "An exorcist huh? No matter I suppose, if not for that reason, we wouldn't have met." She replied dismissively, her thoughts turning to how John had handled the dead she had commanded to give chase, Once a group of silly people in cloaks had tried to force her from this place with crosses and chants, she had easily chased them off with the many animated dead she had access, but Hickson however in comparison had genuine power, magical energy constantly humming around him. Again, it didn't matter. "Though you already know it, I'll return the gesture, my name is Clarissa Magnolia...I'm...I" She paused, her memory drawing a blank, save for faint recollections, "I don't remember anymore?" Her skull tilted to the side with a loud click, puzzled by her incompleteness.

'Of course,' thought Hickson, 'Ghosts are just left of spiritual energy, bound by a strong emotion or desire relating to their death, all that remains, all that binds her identity is the unfulfilled desire to get married, the dream day she was denied by her death.

"I-I..." she mumbled.

But Hickson quickly distracted her from introspection, pulling her close into an embrace, being careful not to show on his face what he thought of the thick stench of death that hovered about her remains. "It's okay," he whispered. "Let's get going, shall we?"

"Where?" she asked.

"Down the aisle of course, it's just the two of us, but we'll manage anyhow," Hickson stated, reaching into his pocket, flicking the switch on a tiny remote, and their surroundings were filled with an electric recording of a traditional wedding march song. "Shall we?"

One hand awkwardly interlocking with a protruding shoulder nub as an alternative to linked arms, they proceeded slowly down the aisle in time to the rhythm of the song, and though there was no priest or vicar waiting for them, it didn't matter though, Clarissa was simply happy this day had come, and Hickson had watched enough TV shows to recall the vows that would be exchanged. Reaching the end, he flicked the remote in his pocket again, and the music ceased, now standing before a non-existing congregation.

"Well let's get started, shall we?" He prompted.

"Yes. Thank you."

"I, John Hickson..."

"I, Clarissa Magnolia..."

They then proceeded to say the traditional vows, and then came the moment that Hickson had not considered, 'You may kiss the bride' and as she moved closer towards him, head jutted forward, Hickson realised that when she had attacked him the previous night, that lunging motion had been attempt to kiss him. Nervously swallowing, keeping his lips tightly pressed, he gently kissed the skull's teeth, given the lack of lips. He narrowly kept the bile down, thankfully there was no rotting flesh or maggots on that part of the skeleton.

As they parted, Clarissa began to glow, particles of light drifting upwards and vanishing, and she too began to disappear, "And so I pronounce you man and wife," she whispered, and for a split second Hickson saw a short bubbly woman, and then both that vision and the ghost were gone. The skeleton she left behind crumbled into dust, and a very faint whisper of _"Thank you..."_

"You're welcome," he replied, and without looking back, he grabbed his equipment and exited the church. He paused to throw up a little in nearby bush, why couldn't she have been a regular ghost, why wear her remains? "I'm definitely charging extra for this," Hickson muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "Next time I'll be fully stocked so I don't have to deal with this kind of crap."

"What about consummating our union?" whispered a woman's voice in his ear. With a panicked shriek of absolute dread, he span, tumbled, and landed heavily on his rear. Looking up he saw Orcsan, who watched him with mischievous eyes. "The look on your face!" She laughed.

"Fuck you, that is not cool...Wait, how long have you been here?" Hickson demanded, going from scared, to angry, to concerned, very quickly.

Orcsan merely held up one of his recording devices he'd brought the previous night and said, "Long enough, and I wanted to give Dingir a gift if he ever makes it home."

Mouth gaping, Hickson yelled out after Orcsan as she turned and left, "Ooooh! Fuck you!"

"You're covering the night shifts for a while, dearie," she called back, waving the camera mockingly. "I think I'll take some vacation time soon as well."

"Yes Ma'am," the exorcist sighed in defeat.

Meanwhile...

* * *

(Scene change: Orario) **STOP SKIPPING!**

Mark awoke with a start, he lay in his bed, sheets crumpled and he let out a deep sigh. "What the fuck did I just dream about?" he muttered. "And why Hickson?" he scratched at his head. 'Still I wonder how he and everyone else are doing without me?" Never realising that his subconscious mind had touched upon his home world, it hadn't been the first 'fiction' of home he had dreamed of and it wouldn't be the last. He had even dreamed of his detective father battling the Behemoth alongside a devil corrupted human… but that was obviously nonsense.

Mark pushed the thoughts away, he couldn't think of home. It was too painful. His allies, his friends, his… his family. If he became a god after getting to level 10, he might be able to travel to Earth. But would Yahweh allow him when he banished all other gods in the first place? It was doubtful, and by then his family would be centuries dead.

It hurt so much.

It was why he had latched onto Hestia so desperately as a replacement.

Hestia was like an odd mix of loving mother figure and easily teased sister.

_(A/N: Though today I'm super pissed off at my mum and sister, I noted the irony as I was writing this.)_

And why he had entered the dungeon, not only to help his goddess, but to be demon slayer Dingir again. He needed the mask to function, as without the mask and role Mark was nothing more than an insane child tortured more than most in Hell as living souls took longer to break and feed to the fiery dimension. He was nothing but fear and hate, his mask and Hestia's affectionate care allowed him to live each day.

(Mark POV)

But nobody could replace what I had lost. I could only hope that what I built here would be enough that I could find a small happiness here and there.

I had Hestia who had become my family…

I had my allies who followed my will…

I had Alf, my acquaintance/friend, who I was beginning to see as…

Ahem! Never mind.

I had my Kouhai Bell, who was beginning to grow on me. I doubted that anything would happen between my goddess and him for years to come, but they were building a close relationship where he didn't overly revere her and saw her as a girl. Hestia for all of her power and wisdom… was disturbingly human, and as such - flawed. But I adored her for it as kindness and love were an integral part of her despite her flaws, even when angry, lazy, jealous, or drunk.

And as of a week ago we gained a new member in Arde.

The teenage Pallum had joined us the morning after I battled a God into banishment. Hestia unsealed her Falna and merged it with hers to updating her stats, which hadn't been done in years. Arde gained a massive increase in all abilities, sadly no level up as she never faced the more deadly monsters. But Arde had never the less gained two new skills.

**Adel dilectis clypeus**; which granted sturdy defences when fighting alongside another and when defending someone you strongly care for, it produces an energy shield that blocks physical attacks and magic to some extent.

**Receptus**; which grants great speed to Arde and those within ten metres of her, but only when fleeing to safety.

While I myself had also gained a skill, which was rare for me, it was called **Angelus Custos** and used my angelic power and mind energy together to dramatically increase my defence when my emotions spiked or I desired to protect someone other than myself.

Arde had been so happy at her new skills and increased abilities; no longer did she have to stagnate at her current abilities. Hestia would update her and us whenever we requested it.

Bell currently was updated every day after returning from the dungeon with me, though I think that was so Hestia could grind and be close to her crush. I hadn't the heart to tell him that wasn't the norm, particularly for larger familia's. I typically updated once a month as my stats now increased slowly as most were at S-rank. It felt more meaningful to see a noticeable increase once per month, or whenever I faced a particularly strong boss and hoped for a level increase. The last twelve updates had been rather irritating for that reason. Though it would be worse now as I had to train and keep Bell and Arde safe.

Speaking of those two… Arde had crawled into bed with me again. She had done it every night since I had rescued her from the Soma's cruelty and machinations. Currently she was latched onto my right arm, using it as a body pillow and a source of comfort and safety. Annoyingly that meant I couldn't sleep naked anymore to avoid mutual embarrassment. Thankfully this world had boxer shorts.

Arde, when not enjoying Hestia's mothering attentions was glued to my side. It was adorable, given her size; she looked like she was my kid, particularly after using her Cinderella spell to make her hair and eye colour the same as mine. But Arde was only a few years my junior if you didn't include the time my soul spent trapped in Hell, either way I wasn't old enough to be her dad. I would be worried about her possibly having certain intentions towards me. But my angelic senses came in handy for that. I read her soul and found no such emotions or lust. Arde had taken to thinking of me as an emotional support and a replacement family member. I won't deny how flattering that was, and given how I had used Hestia in the same way. I wouldn't reject her.

I would still prefer if Arde stopped sneaking into my bed.

I am not a cuddly teddy bear... even if a few girls had called me that in secondary school. (High school to non-British)

* * *

**To be continued in part 10**

* * *

_**UPDATED!**_

**Status**

**Name:** Mark Green

**Alias: **Dingir, Mad Adventurer, Hestia's Monster

**Race:** Nephilim (A humanoid of angelic heritage, typically red skinned with golden eyes.)

**Gender:** Male

**Age:** physically 21 (30 including Hell)

**Hair:** Black

**Eyes:** Grey

**Height:** 185cm

**Affiliation:** Hestia Familia (captain)

**Occupation:** Adventurer

**Level:** 5

**Achieved floor:** 49

Strength: S908

Endurance: S978

Dexterity: B790

Agility: B817

Magic: C569

Exorcist: S

Storage: D

Magic Resistance: B

Skill: Berserker, Dark Store, Dragon Burst, Angelus Custos

Magic: Sanctitudo, Malo Purget, Origin

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Well there you go! Also next chapter will focus on Alf, and include an appearance from a certain goblin hating adventurer._


	10. Part 10: Elf, Erotica, and Goblin Slayer

_A/N: The second half of this chapter is dedicated to _**NeoNazo356**

* * *

**Is it wrong to try to pick up Girls in a Dungeon with my scary senpai?**

_Grey Faction x DanMachi Crossover_

"_Mark, alias Dingir, alias Hestia's Monster - for the first time now has others working alongside him, now a familia of three, will this fearsome level 5 be able to manage being a familia captain to a newbie harem protagonist and a Pallum girl using him as a father figure?"_

* * *

**Part 10 – Elf, Erotica, and Goblin Slayer**

Alf was currently inside her favourite bookstore which catered to romance and erotica; or adult romance as the elfish princess preferred to call it, the small store was on the outskirts of the red light district, squished between far more imposing shops. The store was run by a trio of young amazons, who were a common sight in this part of the city, due to the amazon's patron god also being the runner of most brothels in Orario. Amazons were a race of all women, dark skinned, and strong for their size, even those without Falna. Like Dryads, they historically kidnapped men when they wanted to increase their numbers or when in need enjoyment that came with casual flings.

It ran in contrast to what elves did, who typically married, like many humans did. Not that Alf could fault them, with how their culture differed from most being one gendered. Many worked in the red light district because it provided them strong men to choose from, as was their typical preference. Also it got society off their back for the most part for all the man-napping. The men now came to them. Though Alf was far more 'selective' about the men she took to bed – extremely rare such an occurrence was, due to her avoiding alcohol with great effort. Being one of the 'elders' of the Loki familia left her too busy, and she had help raise most of the current generation in their familia, and saw them as children, even though she still had the appearance of a young woman of perhaps twenty-one or two.

In any case, Alf rather liked the teasing and knowing amazons, as their lack of a ranked society meant her own titles meant nothing to them; she was just another woman to them, something she had appreciated. She was a princess and the heir apparent of the elven throne in the forest kingdom a continent away. Most treated her differently, with reverence and respect, and often with hidden agendas. It was one of the reasons she had left her home over ninety years ago, getting help from a visiting goddess to escape the trappings of royal life.

However many attempts had been made to force Alf back home about forty years ago, after her parents died. However as a (then) level four mage, she simply blasted them away. Her parents had left the throne to a council which had members of each element of society, from nobles, to tradesmen, to wives, even criminals had a voice. And while the lack of a King or Queen to give a final word slowed new laws and resolving complicated issues, it prevented abuse of power to a large extent, and gave far more people a say then simply nobles and rich traders. Alf eventually made a deal to visit once every five years and make a final say on any unresolved issues in exchange for letting her live her life how she wanted without being pestered, though the council persisted in calling her Princess and Heir apparent.

Lefiya had been sent to her and Loki during one of those visits. She was extremely shy in spite of her talents, already a level 3. Lefiya practically worshiped her, which Alf was still trying to wean the younger elf of doing. Fortunately her recent infatuation with Aiz had shifted Lefiya as treating Alf as a respected teacher of magic, a senpai as the humans called it. This was more tolerable to the elven princess, who now currently thumbed through a rather heated scene, Alf's face was slightly flushed, and breathing a touch faster than normal.

"Oh, that's a good one!" said one of the amazon trios, named lssa, who was running the store alone today, as no deliveries were due.

"Came in a few months ago, didn't think we still had any left," she commented.

"I-I can certainly see why," Alf agreed with faint embarrassment. While the scene was a little 'unrealistic' the author was skilled at painting the scene within the readers mind.

"You know, the male lead's description reminds me of that guy who's always here with you," Issa grinned teasingly, draping her arm over the high-elf's shoulder. Alf started in surprised, her flush deepening slightly. She had noticed, and 'he' had certainly slipped into her imagination while reading certain scenes. Tall, built, dark haired, grey eyed, even the dialogue was similar in places with how he flirted. If she didn't know better, Alf would think Mark had been used as a base design.

"N-Now that you mentioned it…" Alf replied with a slight stutter, not acting her long years.

Issa barked a knowing laugh, knowing elves to be far more reserved than her kin. "Sure, sure, you pretend you weren't substituting the two of you in that scene, though I doubt he's **that** big unless he's got some Minotaur in his blood."

Alf snorted in a very unladylike manner. The book had been unrealistic on that part of male anatomy. Though many male focused stories did the same for female characters, even as a level 6, Alf doubted she could stand straight if she had as much weight on her chest as some of these fictional women.

"Is this just some scheme to keep me from buying this so you can keep re-reading it?" Alf questioned the young Amazon.

"Maybe?" Issa smiled innocently. "But seriously though…" she pulled Alf closer, "When are the two of you going to stop with this 'casual friendship' thing you've got going on. You know his schedule, always 'meeting up by chance.' Just drag him off somewhere and fuck his brains out." The amazon suggested with complete seriousness. "Stake your claim."

Alf's face was steaming at this point, a stuttering mess.

"Seriously though, Alf-chan," Issa continued. "If you leave it too long, some other hottie will snatch him up. Then you'll be kicking yourself for the next few centuries."

Alf made a series of incomprehensible attempts to deny such intentions but swiftly silenced at the bell sounding as the door opened and Mark entered. He was dressed casually, save for an All-Silver short sword strapped to his waist, wearing a black shirt and slacks that showed far more of his muscles than his usual adventurer's garb did. A few scars peaked out from the sleeves and collar, mute evidence of his experience before gaining a Falna and regular access to potions.

"Hey Alf!" he waved, his usually stoic face lighting up when seeing his friend. Issa gave Alf a knowing smirk and nudge.

"Hello Mark, I-It's good to see you," Alf greeted in return.

"Why the stammer?" Mark queried, before glancing to the amazon. "You being a perv again, Issa-chan?"

"No more than usual," Issa replied.

"So that's a yes," Mark sighed, flicking Issa lightly in the forehead, who recoiled with an exaggerated cry of pain. "Really overdoing the acting there, so what are you doing now?"

Issa grinned, presenting the book that Alf was reading, opening the pages on 'that' scene.

"Wait, Issa don't show him that!" Alf protested, snatching for it, but embarrassment made her movements sloppy and missed.

Mark's eyes narrowed in disgust as he read the passage. "Really Issa?" he growled. "I asked you to stop selling those, its fucking embarrassing."

Alf was confused; he had never judged her reading material, often teasing the contrast it revealed about her more prim and reserved character.

"Alf found one stuffed in the back of a shelf, don't bitch," Issa retorted. Turning to Alf, she explained. "One of my kin had sex with Mark about a year ago, and for a laugh made one of the male leads look like him, even imitated the crappy way he flirts when she wrote her next book."

"If it fails its banter, not flirting," Mark retorted, sighing into his palm. Wishing his hands were larger to better hide his blushing face. Sadly given how much time he spent in the dungeon, he was on the paler side, and said blush was very visible. While Alf felt a momentary stab of jealousy, before being embarrassed as well that some miscreant had put him in an adult romance she had been so enthralled by, though thankfully the name was different, Alf then noticed him blushing.

"Huh?" The Elven Princess remarked in surprise. "I wasn't aware you could blush Mark, you look like a flustered maiden." She teased back, beginning their usual slightly barbed banter.

"Hestia damn it, Alf."

Meanwhile Issa watched on, wishing she had some popcorn for the show. 'When are those two going to stop dancing around the issue and fuck? I want the details ASAP.'

Weeks later when Alf saw Mark with a tiny girl riding on his shoulders with his hair and eye colour, it would be quite the show.

* * *

**(Far, Far away)**

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a few hundred miles south of the Elven forest kingdom, on a large farmstead outside a town of non-Falna adventurers, a man of average height yet well-built from fighting tilled the earth with swift focus, as each of his swings drove deep gouges into the ground. His movement's fluid, though they had a wide arc, more akin to the swing of a sword or club than a farmer's tool. Never the less it did its job. The man was an adventurer, largely retired, and never possessed a Falna despite his monstrous strength and skill.

Unlike the dungeon city, monsters roamed above ground and several goddesses had been kidnapped, _(censored)_ and killed. No god save Loki or Hecate ever came there after that and even they did so with a large group for protection. Temples were set up instead, and gods still in heaven granted miracles (spells) to those who proved themselves and were devoted to the gods. It didn't compare to Falna but it gave the human, elf, and dwarf kingdoms a chance to fight back. Escaping Demons that once haunted the dungeon past level sixty had been a great threat in the past, but a succession of heroes had finally ended them.

The man continued his diligent work, as these days a farmer was far more valuable than an adventurer without a Falna. Monsters were still a problem, but with every village and town having a group for protection, often trained from among their own residents, with others hired as escorts for travellers and merchants, they were easily dealt with. The truly strong monsters such as the dragons and ogres had died during the last demon lord war, which this man had participated in.

This man had not done so for his country, or for wealth or fame. He did so to eliminate a single species of monster, one who had been gathered in their entirety to be used as grunt forces and guerrilla warfare, one he hated more than any other, one that needed to be destroyed for the world to have a semblance of sanity and peace. The Goblins. The _mobs_ of this world, yet due to their ability to breed with the mortal races and their tactics, they brought horror and destruction in their wake for villages, travellers, and cocky adventurers, many suffering brutal rape and torture at their green skanky hands.

The goblins were now extinct outside of the dungeon, thanks to the brutal and brilliant tactics of this one man, who now lived as a farmer with his wife Rose and his son Ashe. The man's name was Gray, but he is known in stories and songs as… _**Goblin Slayer**_! He was a rather handsome man, though his hard eyes and intensity frightened many unused to him, he had pale ash-brown hair and wine-red eyes. Gray and his wife Rose were both forty years of age. His son, Ashe was fifteen and worked most days guarding caravans from monster attacks, and joining expedition squads.

The boy was his second coming, wearing similar armour, and often mistaken for his father, however due to a lack of goblins, Ashe didn't have to hide his scent with goblin blood and guts, using instead a spray that eliminated the smell of metal and used a soap that left no scent for his flesh. An Alchemist Goblin Slayer once worked for had invented it after compiling data on Goblins as she doubted many men and women were as hard core as Goblin Slayer. It had made a lot of money as it aided in tracking wild game and other monsters with sensitive noses.

Gray paused in his work as he heard faint footsteps, by habit he reached for a dirk hidden in his clothing, but as the noise grew louder and closer, he recognised it and relaxed. It was his wife Rose, moments later she called out to him.

"Darling, our son's come back, finish that later!" she called with a smile in her voice.

Gray turned in her direction and saw Rose, she was still beautiful as ever to him, her wrinkles and crow's feet doing nothing to hide that she was the sun to his darkness. Rose was of average height, with pink eyes and hair and a bust that made many women jealous, and like most farmers was stocky and deceptively strong, she had once lifted him above her head to prove a point. He couldn't recall the reason for the demonstration, but his former teammates had certainly found it amusing.

"Okay," he replied simply.

Rose rolled her eyes at her husband's lazy response. "You're not in battle at the moment; don't be lazy with your words."

The old (ironically younger) Goblin Slayer might have not known what to say to that, but his years married had mellowed him somewhat, and could banter a least a little.

"I'm saving them up to spend seducing you later."

Rose snorted. "Nice try," she motioned for him to hurry. "We only get to see him on the weekends now… Ah, they grow up so fast."

Gray silently followed, casually checking the fences for damage with a glance while keeping in pace. Habits of a lifetime were hard to break. But he would always keep his edge; he would never lose his family due to tragedy ever again.

As they drew close to their homestead, Gray spotted his son Ashe waiting outside for them. Ashe was slightly taller than his father and looked like a slightly cuter version of Gray, his cheeks yet to gain an adult's leanness, his hair was similar to his father's, but so pale it appeared almost silver, and his eyes were the same beautiful shade of pink as his mother's.

"Welcome back," Gray said simply, with a warm smile that was only possible because he had achieved both his revenge and found much needed love. They exchanged a tight hug as was their custom, but Gray paused minutely as he smelt the faint scent of a woman on his son.

'They grow up too fast indeed,' Goblin Slayer thought with a tinge of sadness and pride. The woman's scent tickling persistently in his nostrils, he released his son from his hug after a slightly awkward pause.

"Good to be back, Dad," Ashe replied. If his son had noticed his realisation, he hadn't commented on it. "We ran into a pack of wargs on the return journey from the city."

"Let's go inside and you can thrill me about your exploits."

"Hah, you boys never change," Rose, aka – Cowgirl laughed as they headed inside.

"Nope."

"Nope."

As Gray locked the door behind them, he considered the matter briefly, rather concerned as he recognised the woman's scent that clung to his son; sadly it wasn't strong enough to narrow it down to a specific woman. But there weren't many women he had worked with enough to pick them out by smell alone. The possibilities were…worrying.

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_**To be continued in…**_

Part 11 – You have a daughter?

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_A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, expect more Elf and Goblin Slayer in the next chapter._

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_Also if like me you're stuck inside, pass the time with OG Dingir in the **Grey Faction** trilogy, available on amazon and most online retails. Because who doesn't need a distraction?_


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